


Love Potion No. 9

by HachimansKitsune



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Consensual Kink, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 118,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HachimansKitsune/pseuds/HachimansKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's magic afoot in the Goblin Kingdom. Sarah is up to her ears in charms, amulets, spells, poppets and potions. But what's a little hedge witch magic when compared to the mighty Goblin King? Jareth has nothing to worry about,or does he? (Silliness, fluff, lashings of UST, smut, tight pants, snogging, goblin shennanigans, and general goblin and magic fueled chaos.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Magic

**Author's Note:**  This is a little plot bunny that has been niggling at me for a month now and today an idea hit me like a sledge-hammer between the eyes, so I just had to run with it. The chapters (by and large) will be on the shorter side. This story is going to be very much in the vein of 'Dreams, Wishes and Plain Brown Wrappers' – silliness, LOTS of fluff, lashings of UST, and bits of smut (tho the first chapter is a bit on the 'sad Jareth' side…things will pick up from chapter 2 on ;) ). No evil Jareth here. But there will be love – eventually. And lots of mayhem and shenanigans along the way.

I hope you enjoy…and as always…please review.

P.S. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten my other stories. The next chapter of '50 Shades of Fae' is already outlined and I'm getting started writing it.

* * *

**Ch. 1**

With a quiet smile, Jareth leaned his back against the solid stones of the castle, enjoying the gentle warmth of the late summer sun, as it cast its nurturing glow over the Labyrinth, the kingdom and its monarch. It was these quiet moments in the midday, when the citizens of the Labyrinth kingdom were occupied with their midday meal, that the Goblin King enjoyed most. While others might find her perch, balanced upon the railing of a balcony in the tallest tower of the Goblin Castle, to be precarious at best, it was Jareth's favourite place to sit, meditate and observe his kingdom. From this perch, he could see the vast expanses of the twisting, turning, ever-changing Labyrinth, as well as the gentle rolling hills and fields that surrounded the Goblin City and villages dotted here and there amongst the maze.

If asked what his favourite time of year was, Jareth would be hard-pressed to give an answer. While many Fae had clear preferences, his role as the Goblin King and a member of the High King's family meant that he frequently had a role in many different seasonal festivals, so he loved them all – from the Yule log of deep winter, to the spring flowers and bonfires that heralded Beltane, and the fires that warmed the cool autumn nights of Mabon and Samhain. Each season had its festival and meanings, and while the magic of the Underground was vastly different from the pagan magic of the aboveground, there were similarities, most notably the festivals.

Closing his eyes, Jareth basked in the glorious warmth of the sun, feeling the golden rays seep deep into his very being, warming him inside and out. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of moisture as his body responded to the delicious warmth of the sun, the humidity of midday reaching its zenith for the day. Those who saw the Goblin King at court would probably be horrified by the way his shirt was sticking wetly to him, as were his trousers – and he cared not a jot, neither for the fops at court or the warm sweat which coated him. In fact, if the truth were told, despite all of the frippery and frills he wore when about on court business, Jareth preferred more simple clothing and pursuits. In the early spring he often could be found in the fields around the Goblin City, and in the fall he would venture into the fields once more to assist with the harvesting. As king, he could easily let his advisors oversee the planting and harvesting, but Jareth was bound to his kingdom in a blood oath, and each spring and fall he felt the soil call to him, making his blood seem to itch in his veins until he followed the call and joined with the sacred soil, his hands covered in dirt and loam.

His citizens didn't question it when in the spring he would simply show up in a field, dressed simply, his hair held back by a single leather thong. And there, without a word he would join in the ancient ritual of preparing the soil and planting the crops. When he appeared, he would work all day under the sun, alongside his subjects. At noon he would sit with them and share their simple working day meal, often supplementing the meal with treats from his own kitchens. For the lunch hour they would eat and talk, then return to work. Then when the last of the work was done for the day, a great keg of ale would be found at the edge of the field, and he would join with them in toasting the work of the day, often staying until the sun had fully set, drinking and singing songs with his subjects.

Whenever the king graced a farmer with his presence for the planting, it was viewed throughout the kingdom as the king bestowing a gift upon the farmer – but Jareth knew that wasn't really the case. It was the land. The land called him to a particular place on a particular day and all he did was answer the call. Early in his reign he had wondered about the significance of the call and his actions, but even as Fae with a knowledge of many worlds and the beings 'beyond', he knew that there were some magiks that were not meant to be questioned.

Then again in the fall, at the time of each phase of the harvest, Lughnasagh, Mabon and Samhain, he would feel called to the fields once more to aid in the harvest. Of all of the seasons and festivals he was a part of, Lughnasagh and Samhain did hold a special place in his heart. His bond with the land of his kingdom and the 'need' to feel the soil in his hands, was important to him and clearly it was important to the land and the citizens as well. On Lughnasagh he would wake far before the first warming rays of the sun, then as the gentle glow would begin to peek over the land, his subjects would silently wait and watch their fields, a ring of late summer wildflowers waiting at the edge of the field. The Goblin King would appear within the flower ring, no glitter, no fanfare, just the king, in his simple working clothes. He would take up the simple curved sickle blade left for him, and cut the first sheaf of wheat. Once he made the first cut, he lay it in the flower circle and vanished as the workers for that field would begin to sing and pick up their own blades to continue the harvest. And so it went, no one would touch the field until the Goblin King appeared and cut the first sheath.

The pattern was repeated the night of Samhain. As the sun began to set, he would appear in the fields, this time dressed in simple black pants and boots, his chest bare, save for the glowing marks of his kingship that were etched across his chest and back. With a crystal blade he would cut the last sheaf of wheat, binding it with plaited twist of the wheat itself. Then without a word, he would present that sheaf to the farmer, before vanishing. For each field in his kingdom, he did this. As he completed the harvesting circle and disappeared, he would hear the singing of his people as they gave thanks for the crops and the final turn of another year.

Although the festivals and seasons were heralded in other kingdoms within the Underground with balls and grand affairs, Jareth far preferred the simple, peasant festivals of his own kingdom. Chuckling to himself, Jareth shook his head at his own thoughts – for despite the magic that suffused the very air and soil of the Underground, for some reason he felt that the simple festivals of the Labyrinthian citizens held more magick and power, than the elaborate balls and fairs held in other kingdoms.

So, he encouraged his subjects to keep to the simple ways. It suited them. And him.

Still basking in the steamy warmth of the golden sun, Jareth lifted his hand, bare of the usual gloves. He turned his hand over examining the pale skin of his palm, marked with what appeared to be a finely raised branding line in the shape of a the triskelion knot work design, that then spread out, faint lines twisting and twining around his fingers and wrists, to disappear up his arms. There were things about the magic of his kingship and his bond to the Labyrinth that only his own subjects knew of. The marks of his position that covered his body were one of those things. Oh, his father and mother knew. As the High King and Queen they knew that the bond Jareth had with his kingdom was far deeper than any previous Goblin King had – although he suspected not even they were aware just how strong that bond was.

His blue eyes followed the shimmering lines that glowed faint orange in the late summer. Even now, several centuries after taking over as the king, he was fascinated by the way the markings changed colors with the movement of the wheel of the seasons. In early spring they were green, with the green growing brighter as summer wore on. Then one day the green would appear tinged with yellow that grew darker and took over until they were orange. As summer gave way to fall, the orange first became brighter, then grew darker and darker until by Yule the lines would appear almost black. When the Yule Log was lit, then the black would fade, giving way to a pearlescent white color, so symbolic of the shimmering snow of Yule. Upon Imbolc the lines would change again, glowing deep blue, which would give way to green as spring once more rolled around.

Around his parents and his subjects he would allow glimpses of his kingship marks to show, but no one other than himself and his healer knew the true extent of them. As far as his subjects and parents were concerned, the marks were on his hands and chest, but they went much further than that, winding their way around his torso, along his arms, legs and even the soles of his feet. The actual process through which the marks appeared was a secret between himself and the Labyrinth – not even the High King knew exactly what the bond entailed. But, it was the secret and supernatural nature of the marks that allowed Jareth to be fascinated with them and at peace with the way they marked him. Of course, while he had come to love them, the Fae still valued physical beauty, so he hid the marks with gloves, long sleeves, and various glamours. Even those lovers had had taken to his bed since his kingmaking rite was completed, had only seen a glamoured version of his body. He dared not show even those closest to him, the full extent of his marking.

Watching the orange glow of the lines on his hand deepen in the mid-July sun, Jareth smiled. He could already feel the tingling in his blood signaling the coming festival. He looked forward to the fires and feasting that would make the Goblin Kingdom seem to hum with happiness, looking forward to a bountiful harvest in the fall. The sound of singing drifted up to the Goblin King's ears, carried aloft from the workers in the fields, tending to the swaying golden wheat, the bright green leaves of the other crops that sustained his people – corn, beans, potatoes, pumpkins, gourds of all kinds, not to mention the fruits, nuts and berries. The rolling hills and fields were a riot of green, with the rich scent of full-earth and 'growth' hanging heavily in the humid air, alongside the golden haze of pollen as the next round of summer wildflowers began to bloom.

"Ah-ha-CHOOO!"

Jareth sighed and looked back into the tower, not noticing the watches and clocks hanging from silken threads from the ceiling, to dangle above the pit of feathers, pillows and sumptuous cloths that lined the sunken round pit in the middle of the room. The door into the tower opened and Hoggle stumbled in, his bulbous dripping as he held a red handkerchief to it. Sniffling, the dwarf wiped his nose, even as his hazel eyes watered, the mossy-brown ringed with red.

"What is it Hogsbrain?" drawled Jareth, letting his head loll back against the stone as he turned to watch the swaying the wheat fields bordering the Goblin City gates to the Labyrinth proper. He could hear Hoggle's irritated growl at his deliberate misnaming.

With a frustrated sniff, Hoggle shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket, flapping a sheaf of papers in front of his face as a make-shift fan. "I don't know how youze can stand it up here, yer Majesty. The humidity's murder in the throne room, but up heres its so bad even your eyeballs sweat!" he complained, panting in the thick air of his king's private tower.

The king merely shrugged, "Your eyeballs aren't sweating. It's just allergies, Hogsbreath. Now enough about the humidity, what would make you drag yourself up then 1300 steps to my tower in the midday heat, hmm?"

Frowning Hoggle handed Jareth the papers he was using as a fan, then flopped against a nearby trunk, making the crystal baubles on top of it tinkle and chime as they knocked together.

"The mayor of Glennisfyre has asked if you would be willing to grace their Lughnasaugh festival as Lugh this year," he said, running a blue handkerchief over his sweaty forehead, before sneezing again and rushing to pull out his red handkerchief once more.

Jareth cringed in distaste as Hoggle blew his nose loudly, then sniffed twice as loud. "Why don't you go see Aine and get something for those allergies?" he snapped, flipping through the papers Hoggle handed him.

"Dun tried that yesterday," Hoggle said, his words thick and congested. "She dun have anything that seems to work."

Reluctantly, Jareth rose from his spot on the railing and crossed the cluttered confines of the tower toward the dwarf, a tight brown leather waistcoat appear around his torso, pulling his shirt together to obscure most of the markings on his chest, while a pair of simple black gloves appeared on his hands. "All right, I will go deal with the afternoon court. I don't want to listen to you sneezing, wheezing and sniffing all afternoon, so go home. Drink tea. Soak your head. I don't care…go swim in the bog. But do whatever you have to do to get rid of your allergies before you return to your duties at the castle."

Hoggle blinked in surprise and nodded. "Um…thank you…yer majesty. Dun know what is happening with mah allergies this season. They ain't been this bad since I was still on fairy duty at the outer Labyrinth gates."

It was times like this, when his king acted…well… _nice_ …that Hoggle wondered if maybe the king was going soft. Once upon a time he wouldn't have cared if Hoggle were sick or not, but to give him an afternoon off, just for an allergy sniffle? It was completely out of character. But, Hoggle suspected he knew why.

Something changed after Sarah won.

No one really talked about what her win meant, but it was a commonly held belief amongst the people that someday, somehow, there would be more to the story of 'the girl who ate the peach and forgot everything and still beat the Goblin King'.

After Sarah's Labyrinth challenge, the Goblin King had been in a foul temper, and rightly so, since Hoggle, Didymus and Ludo had all disobeyed direct orders to lure runners off the correct paths. They expected to be punished for their traitorous behavior, yet they weren't. Not really, anyway. True, they had been called before the whole Goblin Court and chastised for their role in Sarah's win, then they had been 'punished,' though Hoggle and Didymus thought it was more an act of show than actual punishment. Hoggle had been pulled off duty by the gate and reassigned as one of Jareth's undersecretaries – which basically meant he assisted the king with matters relating to the goblin and dwarf citizenry, and more specifically he was in charge of the castle goblins. It was dealing with the castle goblins that made the 'promotion' and pay rise seem like the punishment it was, as the castle goblins only ever listened to Jareth.

Didymus on the other hand, had been reassigned to the castle as well, acting as military trainer for the goblin army. Hoggle suspected there was more to Didymus's new position, as the goblin army – the  _real_  goblin army, not the underlings Sarah faced – were already well trained by Didymus's own twin sons, who, as their father before them, were some of the finest military strategists in the kingdom. The reality of Didymus's new position was that he was in the castle as a military advisor, and given the peaceful state of the kingdom, that meant the old, partially lame fox-goblin had plenty of time to rest his weary bones.

As for Ludo, Jareth had him use his rock-calling abilities to help rebuild the Goblin City, then gave him leave to do as he wished. Since he didn't really have a 'job' within the kingdom, Ludo chose to stay in the city near his 'brothers'. So Didymus and Hoggle helped Ludo build a home of his own near the den that Didymus resided in with his wife and youngest daughter. Hoggle, being one of the undersecretaries for the crown had a room of his own in the castle, but frequently stayed in a room of his own in either Ludo's cottage or Didymus's den.

By all accounts, the three traitors had been given a complete pardon, despite being handed down 'punishment' at court. Not that they weren't grateful for it. Hoggle and Didymus spoke of such things late at night over a glass of fairy mead, the two of them musing that perhaps the King knew that there was something more to the girl, something that only those who got close to her during her run, could see and feel. There was something special about her and even though they knew they had orders from their king, they felt compelled to help her through to the end. And while they didn't know what happened when Sarah ate the spelled peach, they knew it involved Jareth. The two old friends suspected that their King was no more immune to the 'something special' the girl had, than the rest of them – after all, he lost, and the king  _never_  lost…until that day.

In the days after her run, the kingdom had been focused on rebuilding, but already there were whispers amongst the people, sharing the tale of the young girl's victory. True, she'd done a fair amount of damage to the Goblin City, but no more so than the goblins themselves did several times a year. It was the fact that she beat 'Him' – the Goblin King - that set her up as a folk heroine for the people. If the Goblin King bristled at the fact that there was now a 'Lady Sarah Victory' day in mid-July, he never let on. In fact, rumour had it that every year, each town was 'mysteriously' gifted with a cask of peach wine, that those in the know said tasted just like the wine made by the Elven vinter and brewer who worked as the King's private brewmaster. Whether it was a gift from the brewmaster or the king himself, no one knew. But every village and town used that wine to toast the victory of 'the girl' and drink to her health and well-being.

Glancing up at Jareth, Hoggle sighed inwardly seeing the far-away look in the Goblin King's eyes as he stared off over the horizon. He knew what the king was thinking of, or more specifically – who.

Hoggle's knobby fingers ran lightly over his silver pocket watch, caressing the engraving on the back that read –  _go deo mo chara ~ Iúil 7_. He couldn't prove it, but he believed it was the last gift Sarah had given him. It was a year ago, on July 7, Lady Sarah Day. He had been dancing in the twisting chains of the victory dance through the goblin city, when he had clasped hands with a cloaked human woman, spinning each other and releasing them to take the next partner's hands. As the woman pulled away, Hoggle felt an unfamiliar weight in the pouch that hung upon his hip. Stepping out of the chain of dancers, he leaned breathlessly against the front of a pub and opened his pouch, only to gasp when he saw the silver watch. With trembling fingers he pulled it out, wondering if it were stolen, until he saw a small white note tied to it with red ribbon. Holding his breath, Hoggle opened the note, then felt his eyes grow warm and itch with tears demanding to be shed.

The note had no signature, but he felt sure it was a gift from Sarah, but how it hand ended up in his pocket he never knew, he only knew that it couldn't have been Sarah because two weeks before Lady Sarah Day the year before, at the end of her 18th birthday, the mirror portal between Sarah and the Underground closed forever. By rights, Sarah had no way to reach them anymore, but the inscription on the watch said 'forever my friend' and was dated with the date of Sarah's victory. No one called him friend, except for Didymus and Ludo, and the silver of the watch had a distinctly 'mortal' feel to it.

The memory of Sarah's 18th birthday was bittersweet to Hoggle. Didymus, Ludo and Hoggle had all gone to visit her on her 18th birthday, trying to remain cheerful and jubilant, despite the heavy burden they bore; for each knew that at the stroke of midnight heralding the day after that birthday, the mirrored portal that connected Sarah to her friends would be closed forever. Jareth had called Hoggle and Didymus into his study the week before her birthday to remind them of the rules.

"I've been generous, allowing the portal to remain open, but once she reaches the mortal age of majority, it must close. If she still wishes to access the magical realms, then it will be up to Sarah to find her way," the Goblin King had told them, his face solemn, while his pale eyes seemed sad. To their knowledge he hadn't spoken to Sarah since their final meeting in the Room of Broken Dreams, yet he too seemed to be pained by the coming loss of contact with the girl. Before Hoggle and Didymus had left the king's study, he had handed them a small jeweler's pouch of purple velvet. "Give this to her…as…well…a gift from her friends," he said quietly, his gloved fingers seeming reluctant to let go of the purple silk ribbons of the pouch, even as Sir Didymus took the delicate parcel with a grave nod.

"I swear it will be done, Sire," he murmured, bowing.

And they had fulfilled the King's request, giving Sarah the small pouch as a gift from her friends – even though only Hoggle and Didymus understood that those words included the Goblin King as well. They had felt a bit of their hearts break when Sarah opened the purple pouch and a fine golden chain dropped into her hand. Hanging from the center of the chain was a golden triqueta, with a small crystal dangling from beneath the golden sigil. Hoggle and Didymust were quite sure Sarah couldn't see or feel the magic of the tiny crystal, its golden hue shimmering upon her palm – but they did, they had felt it often enough being subjects of the Goblin King. He had gifted her a tiny, yet perfect crystal of his own creation – a bit of pure magic. Labyrinthian magic.

Although no word was ever said about the necklace again, not by Didymus or by the king himself, Hoggle knew what it meant for the king to give it to the girl who bested him. It was a way of ensuring that no matter what happened in her life that may take her away from them, robbing her of her belief in magic and fairy tales, a tiny part of the Labyrinth would remain with her - A tiny bit of Jareth's magic, pulsing with a faint power of its own upon the silken flesh of her chest.

Shaking his head from his reverie, Hoggle sneezed again, rubbing at his sore nose with the red handkerchief, his sneeze having pulled the Goblin King back to himself as well.

"Go on, Hoggle. Go home and get yourself feeling better so you don't miss tonight's festivities," Jareth said, nodding toward the tower door.

"Fes-um-festivities?" Hoggle stammered, eyeing Jareth warily. In the five years that the Lady Sarah Day celebrations had been held, he had never heard of the Goblin King acknowledging them, much less mentioning them.

"What? Do you think me that much of a fool that I don't know that today is Iúil 7…exactly fourteen days following Sarah's 20th birthday and the fifth 'Lady Sarah Day'," the Goblin King chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You should know by now, that I am aware of  _everything_  that happens in my kingdom, Hogsbottom. Don't  _ever_  think otherwise."

Blinking and nodding frantically, Hoggle rushed toward the door, before the King's tolerant mood morphed into something 'less' nice. "Oh…um…okay…if yer sure. I'll…um…go now."

"I'm sure. I'll keep the cretins of the castle horde busy for the rest of the afternoon before releasing them to pursue their celebrations of the day Sarah bested me," the Goblin King said, his expression and tone unreadable.

Hoggle rushed down the stairs, narrowly avoiding tripping as the Goblin King strode smoothly down the steps behind him. By the time they reached the bottom and exited into the hidden door of the informal throne room, Hoggle was panting and wheezing like an ancient squeezebox being played by a drunk goblin. "Go home, Hoggle," the Goblin King ordered, striding out onto the circular walkway that led from the door down into the informal throne room. The goblin horde assigned to the castle filled the throne room, with some goblins playing cross-bones under the large clock upon the wall. Another group of goblins were busily chasing a black chicken with what appeared to be a fragment of an old sock, fashioned into something that loosely resembled a butterfly net. Yet another group of goblins appeared to be sparing with wooden swords over a filthy colander which they both seemed to want as a hat. And still another goblin was snoring under the throne, hugging a black chicken who pecked periodically at his face and nose.

Sighing, Jareth flopped carelessly into his throne, the goblins scattered around the room essentially ignoring the appearance of their king – as was the norm. While other kings maintained strict protocols throughout their castles and realms, the Goblin King only cared for protocols when it came to high court occasions and ritualistic celebrations. When it came to the day-to-day matters of the kingdom, the closest thing the Goblin Kingdom had to 'standard protocol' was – 'Wear clothes and shoes when you attend court' and 'No chickens allowed in the formal throne room or anyplace above the third floor of the castle.'

All and all, no matter what others outside the kingdom thought of Jareth, he was far more easy-going than they believed, and still ruled his kingdom with iron-will and the adoration of his subjects.

With his thoughts still on Sarah, Jareth absently pulled a golden crystal from the air. He balanced it with a precise hand, upon the tip of his finger and gazed into it. The glittering wisps of magic within it seemed to shift for a moment, letting a brief burst of hope burn in his chest – hope that he might actually get to see Sarah within the sparkling orb. Then the wisps merely swirled in lazy circles, the fire of hope inside him fizzling once more. Jareth sighed to himself, letting the golden crystal roll gently across his fingertips and hand. Since midnight of her 18th birthday, he had been unable to scry for Sarah, yet still, his subconscious would randomly will scrying crystals into his hand. And despite the knowledge that he would not be able to see her, he would always find himself trying.

He wasn't even sure why.

She had beaten him. His subjects adored her and celebrated her. And as for himself – well, he wanted to see her, but was bound by the laws of his throne and his kind. She was a wisher. A runner who beat the odds and won back that which she wished away. She was kind to her friends and loyal to a fault. And she loved…oh how she loved. Even as she wished Toby away, the Goblin King could sense her capacity to love and envied Toby for it, knowing that should she win, he would be the recipient of such love and devotion as everyone should dream of – including the Goblin King himself.

At the time, she was still a wisp of a girl, untouched, untested, untried, but she had potential, he could see that the very first moment he stood in her parents bedroom. He could feel the power embued in her by her sheer potential, a power that rivaled Fae magic. In those first moments, he was fascinated by her determination, but by the end of her run, he had begun to fully feel not only the depth of her devotion and determination, but the depths she would go to for those she loved.

His words to her at the end, meant far more to him than her. Even as he said them, Jareth knew that she was not old enough to hear, much less feel the meaning in his plea, but he could no more stop the words pouring from within him, than he could stop the very breath in her lungs.

_Fear me…love me…do as I say…and I will be your slave…._

Her capacity for feeling and dreaming drew him in, ensnaring him much as it did her friends, until he too played a role in her victory. But unlike her friends, he was forgotten in the years following her win. She called on them. He never asked them about it, but he knew. And they never spoke about her, or their meetings where he might hear. So, all he could do was play over his memories, mull over what it was about her that bewitched his people and himself, and listen to whispers of the folk tales that his subjects wove of her exploits.

A mortal…made myth, in a land of fantasy and fairy tales.

The Goblin King felt it was more than a bit ironic.

In fact, it felt a great deal like this particular game of fate, were not yet finished.

And it was that thought that helped him through the long hours, days, and years since the mirror portal had fallen shut, and removing the only link he had to the girl, since he was bound by his sacred duty and Fae law from going to the girl unless she found her own way back to the Underground.

Sighing once more, the Goblin King peered around the throne room and frowned. At the back of his mind there was a niggling little feeling that he couldn't quite place. Deliberately, Jareth took a slow deep breath, stilling his mind while unfurling the magical tendrils he shared with the Labyrinth, searching her lands for the source of his unease. Surprisingly, despite the alcohol-fueled mayhem that often heralded Lady Sarah Day, there was nothing wrong within his kingdom. Yet, the feeling persisted.

Jareth sat up in his throne, his feet firmly upon the stones of the dais as he looked around. Then it hit him.

The smell.

Usually the smell of the informal throne room was an unpleasant mix of stale sweat, chicken shit, Bog Water and spilt ale, yet today it was, different. Breathing deeply again, Jareth's pale eyes narrowed as he concentrated upon identifying the new scents.

Spices. Some of which he was familiar with and others, he couldn't identify. Standing, he slowly walked around the room sniffing the air curiously. As he drew near the trio of goblins playing cross-bones with a few old chicken 'knuckle' bones, he noticed that one of them smelt strongly of nutmeg. Frowning, Jareth grabbed the goblin by the back of his tattered tunic, shaking him as he lifted him up and looked him in the eye.

"You reek of nutmeg, Louse. Have you been raiding the kitchen stores again?" he barked.

The little goblin, shook his bushy green head, gulping and grabbing at a dingy bit of green string tied around his neck. "No Sire! Not since Louse got caught last time. Cook threatened to  _stew_  Louse if he ever went in the kitchen again!"

"What's that around your neck then, hmm?" asked the Goblin King, eyeing the nervous way Louse hung onto the green string. "Hand it here."

"No! Sire…please!" pleaded Louse, hanging on all the harder to the string. "Is mine! I bought it. Fair 'nough I did."

The Goblin King held out his other hand and glared at the trembling goblin. "Now, Louse. Or I'll take it from you anyway and bog you for your impertenance."

Pouting children are horrible enough, but pouting goblins are worse – and Louse was pouting in a way that would make the hardest heart soften, not that it did any good where his king was concerned. Jareth merely growled, shaking the hapless goblin again until Louse untied the string and pulled a green linen pouch from under his dirty jerkin and handed it to the king.

"I can haz it back when you've seen it. Yes?" he asked, his beady grey eyes watching the Goblin King's expression.

"Perhaps," Jareth said coolly and dropped the goblin onto the stone floor. He examined the green pouch, confused as to how it was that the pouch was quite neat and tidy, despite the filthy appearance and clothing of Louse. Tugging at the green string through the top of the pouch, Jareth sniffed gingerly at the opening, surprised to find the smell of nutmeg and cloves intensified, yet the pouch felt slightly heavy. He opened the pouch further and poured the contents out into his hand, only to have Louse wail.

"Noooo! Now it won't work! No fair!"

Ignoring the tantrum the goblin was now throwing, Jareth peered at the contents of his hand. Cloves and shavings from a nutmeg. A green stone and a black stone, woven together with more green threads that felt suspiciously like silk.

"What is this?" he asked, looking down at Louse, who pouted up at him, crossing his skinny arms over his chest.

"Doan matter now, won't work. You opened it. Youse not 'posed to open em or they doan work good no more," he grumbled.

"Open what? What is this, Louse?" demanded the Goblin King sternly, as he poured the contents back into the pouch and dangled it over Louse's head.

Reaching up, Louse snatched the pouch from the Goblin King's hand. "S'magic," he muttered, tying the green string around his neck as his fellow gamblers looked on, becoming more interested in the hint of a potential bogging than their game.

Intrigued, Jareth watched the way the little goblin acted as if the pouch were precious. Being of the high ranking nobility, Jareth was both incredibly powerful, but also well-educated and therefore knowledgeable of both the Fae realm and other realms. Unlike many Fae who would scoff at any suggestion that there were magic outside of their own type of power, Jareth knew there were other beliefs and other types of magic within the realms – types of magic that rivaled Fae power if wielded by one who truly believed and knew how to draw upon the power.

"What is your pouch magic for, Louse," asked the Goblin King, trying not to lose his patience, and finding it more difficult.

The little goblin mumbled, ducking his head so that Jareth couldn't hear him.

"Dodge my questions again and I'll lock you in the leaky oubliette under the bog for a month," snarled Jareth, all pretence of patience failing. "Answer me and be quick about it!"

"'Tis for luck…" Louse began, only to get pounced upon by his mates as they began to yell.

"Youse cheatin!" bawled one, pounding Louse's bushy green head with a fist, while another grabbed his ankle and bit down hard. "No fair usin magicks!"

Rolling his eyes, Jareth left the three to their fight as he continued sniffing his way around the throne room. With all of the competing scents, he was soon overwhelmed. Finally he stood on the dais and roared above the general chaos of the room, "QUIET!" Goblins everywhere froze and watched him with wide, frightened eyes. "If you have any 'magic' bring it here, immediately!" he bellowed, then sat on his throne. One by one the goblins wandered toward him, until nearly every goblin in the throne room was crowded around him, holding up little pouches of various colors. Some were green, others blue, black, purple, orange, red and even a few grey pouches, that Jareth assumed had once been white. "What are these for?" he asked as he collected each small pouch and peered inside them. A red one held a semi-opaque pink tinted crystal, rose petals and lavender – claimed by the owner to be for love magic. A blue one held a bit of green and purple flecked crystal along with some pungent smelling herb he couldn't quite place – whose owner admitted it was protection magic. In a white one he found what smelled like mint, along with a bit of a semi-clear golden stone and a tiny stump of a light blue candle – the owner of this one was more cagey about the reason for the magic and only admitted after being threatened with a permanent residence  _in_  the bog, finally confessing that it was to cure a sick chicken.

Jareth frowned as he looked at the colorful pouches, herbs, stones, bits of colored wax and ribbons from the 'magics' he had confiscated. He recognized this type of magic – Hedge Witchery, a form of mortal magics that periodically showed up in the Underground when witches were being persecuted in the Above. There was a strong surge of Hedge Witchery in the late 1400's through the mid-1800's of the mortal timeline, but since then, it had died out, all but forgotten. Pursing his lips he looked through the pouches, then laid them on the floor in front of throne, watching as their owners reclaimed them, eyeing each other suspiciously – particularly those who claimed to have 'luck' or 'prosperity' magic.

As far as magic went, hedge witchery was not something Jareth was well-versed in, nor was he adverse to it being practiced within his kingdom. What did concern him however, was the fact that hedge witchery was a mortal practice. It was quite possible that one of the humans who took sanctuary here following a failed Labyrinth challenge was starting practice such skills, and while Jareth had no issue with a hedge witch working within his kingdom, other kings might not be so tolerant of non-Underground magic. If this was the case, he would need to speak to the witch in question and warn her to stay clear of the other kingdoms. Of course the more disturbing explanation for the 'magic' pouches was that there was an undocumented mortal crossing the veils or possibly hiding within his own kingdom – and that was a crime he could not overlook.

Grabbing Louse who was now nursing a bruised nose after being caught 'cheating' at his game, Jareth shook the dirty goblin and glared at him. "Where did you get your lucky charm?"

"Iz from Jerra's wagon. She'z comes to town for market days," Louse squeaked, then grunted as Jareth dropped him back on the ground.

The Goblin King nodded thoughtfully, rising from his throne. "Go home you lot! I've got things to look into and don't need you cretins lurking about stinking up the place with your magic charms," he yelled, while the goblins cheered. "Go on! Get out of my sight! The last goblin in here gets bogged!"

At that every goblin in the room attempted to disapparate, so that the throne room sounded like a popcorn popper, including a few who attempted to run in two directions at once before seeming to shudder violently and disappear.

Once alone in his throne room, Jareth bent down and picked up a forgotten red pouch filled with red rose petals, lavender and the pale pink stone.

"Love…is a myth," he sighed, tucking the pouch into the top of his boot, before dropping a shimmering crystal to the floor and vanishing with a faint chiming sound.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Please review :) Next chapter we get into some UST and adult type thoughts ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Love Potion No. 9**

_**Ch.2: Twisted Knickers** _

**Author's Note:** No smut or fluff in this one, but some silliness. Next chapter we'll get into more of the 'good stuff' ;)

* * *

When Sarah was a child and read stories of witches and magic, somehow, a woman in jeans and a David Bowie t-shirt working with herbs and oils in a three-legged iron dutch oven, set in the coals of a large stone fireplace, was not what she pictured. Despite the way she might appear to others, Sarah knew that looks were deceiving, particularly when it came to magic.

Intent on the other hand, was everything.

Her breath was slow and steady as she meticulously cut the sage for the spell she was working, murmured words of intent mingling softly with the sound of the knife against the yew chopping block, the combination of sounds forming an almost hypnotic melody, appropriate for the work being done.

"Chosaint ar an ceann a mbeidh idir é an charm , ó siúd ar mian leo a dhéanamh orthu díobháil," Sarah chanted repeatedly, until her voice provided a simple drone for the music of the knife and the bubbling of the iron pot nestled in the indoor firepit of the kitchen hearth.

Her deep brown hair was plaited in twists of three, then wound in an simple knot at the back of her head with silver and white ribbons, the ribbons being the most ornate thing about her, while doing their job of keeping the heavy tresses out of the way as she worked. Reaching over Sarah picked up a pinch of ground cloves and dropped them in the bubbling pot, carefully stirring the pot seven times clockwise as she worked. Still chanting, she reached up and plucked a hair from her head and dropped it into the pot, smiling as a small puff of smoke rose from the brackish surface. Then he picked up the small iron lid and covered the pot tightly, before sitting aside to cool. It was only when the spell was complete that she looked up at the small woman waiting patiently by the door.

To the general view, the slender figure by the door appeared to be a young woman dressed as if she were attending a renaissance faire or a play, but Sarah knew better. Even before she discovered she had 'Fae sight', Sarah could sense when magical beings were near, it was only after her run through the Labyrinth that she discovered that she could now see them as well. Pixies, such as Jerra could be seen by humans, although most humans only saw them as sublimely beautiful people. Yet with the Fae sight, Sarah could see the sharply pointed ears, faint shimmer of pearlescent glitter that preternaturally colored the angular cheekbones and otherworldly shade of purple eyes that peeked at her from within the solemn face of her friend and business partner.

"Okay Jerra, what's got your knickers in a twist?" Sarah asked, rinsing her hands in water from the spring fed pump that ran into the granite sink of her workspace. "I sent as many protection charms as I could with the last order. I never dreamed they'd be so popular with the castle goblins."

Jerra sighed and perched on the stool near the production counter, shaking her head. "It isn't production numbers and demand you need to be concerned with. It's the King."

Pursing her lips, Sarah leaned thoughtfully against the counter as she dried her hands on a simple white linen towel, then wrapped it around her head as a kerchief, tucking her hair up securely under it. "Why? Has he come to see you?" she asked, pouring tea from the pristine teapot on the counter and handing it to Jerra. "Drink this, it will help with the tension."

"Bogdamnit, Sarah…you must take this seriously!" Jerra grumbled.

"Yes, yes…I know. Jar…. Um… _'He'_ discovered a bunch of castle goblins with pouch charms," Sarah said, ignoring the way Jerra cringed as she almost mentioned the Goblin King by name. "Has there been any word from the castle about it? I mean, business is still good. So, what's the problem?"

Sipping her tea, Jerra rolled her eyes. "Look Sarah, I love a good bit of mischief as much as the next Pixie, but we can't forget who runs the kingdom. We still don't know what he'd do if he knew you were involved in the Underground in any way."

"But selling a few charms and amulets isn't illegal," Sarah protested. "Besides, we got Linieve to check the laws of the kingdom, and there isn't a law against imported goods, which is technically what you are selling on my behalf. You are licensed by the crown to run your stall and travelling cart within the Labyrinthian kingdom. So there isn't a problem. Believe me, I haven't forgotten who holds the power over the Goblin Kingdom," Sarah huffed, while her mind piped up – _But He doesn't have power over me._

Jerra looked thoughtful but nodded. "Okay, technically there is no problem. I'm a scout for the crown, so travelling Above is acceptable, but really, there are no rules about importing Aboveground materials or selling them within the borders of the realm," she said, flipping her hand and conjuring a small pot of sugar, then adding several teaspoonful to her tea, much to Sarah's chagrin.

Sarah sat down on the other chair and shook her head, "If you wanted sugar, you could have asked. Besides, this lavender and chamomile tea, it is best taken plain or with a smidge of honey, otherwise you won't get the full de-stressing benefits."

Jerra's purple eyes narrowed to points at that, "I won't be getting _any_ de-stressing benefits until you listen to me and take the issue seriously."

With a dismissive wave, Sarah sipped her tea. "Look, in this instance, it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission. If you petition the crown for a ruling on importing Aboveground merchandise, much less magical merchandise, you will give 'His Mighty Tight-Pantedness' cause to become suspicious."

"Hah! And the fact that the goblins actually smell… _good_ hasn't already aroused suspicion?" Jerra snapped back, while accepting the honey-oatcake, from the hand painted ceramic plate that Sarah offered her.

Putting the plate back on the table, Sarah picked up an oatcake and drizzled more lavender honey on it, before shrugging. "I've smelled them au natural. Believe me, I'm doing 'Him' a favor in that regard and won't apologize for it," she countered, biting into the delicately spiced treat.

"Fine," Jerra sighed with a resolute nod. "But let's try to reduce our profile a bit. Is there anything you can do other than charm pouches that smell?"

Flicking her tongue out to catch a stray drop of honey that was threatening to drop from the cake, Sarah nodded and gave her friend a cheeky grin. "Actually, I've been thinking about that. I can switch out charm bags for amulets and other types of charms – provided you can make sure the buyers follow directions and don't try to wear or eat them."

"When your biggest buyers for that type of thing are goblins, I can make no promises. I'm not a miracle worker," Jerra laughed.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Hoggle was hung over. Of course, it wasn't like this was the first time he had ever been hung over, but in all of his years, he couldn't remember ever being _this_ badly hung over. The last thing he remembered was dancing in the streets with the others during the Lady Sarah Victory party, watching Gleep streak through the crowded square of the Goblin's Den area of the Goblin City. Gleep streaking, in and of itself, wasn't unusual. The little twerp was well-known for it. What was most disturbing and hilarious was the fact that this particular time, he was wearing a pair of glittery knickers on his head that he swore up and down belonged to Jareth. How Gleep had gotten hold of them in the first place was a mystery. Hoggle rather hoped that if they were Jareth's, that Gleep had merely swiped them from the laundry – after they had been washed of course, although knowing Gleep, they had probably been nicked before washing.

At that thought, Hoggle's stomach churned – both from the effects of the hang-over and the thought of Gleep and the glittery (potentially in need of washing) knickers. Rolling from his small bed, Hoggle rushed outside, a gnarled hand clamped over his mouth until he hit his knees by the rose bushes and retched. With a groan, Hoggle wiped his mouth, his eyes shut tight as he leaned against the wall of his house.

"I say…Brother Hoggle, you look frightfully ill," chirped Sir Didymus, cheerfully riding up the front path on the back of his faithful sheepdog steed. "Halt, Ambrosious," he demanded, then slid from the small leather saddle. Didymus hobbled the rest of the way up the path, leaning heavily on the twisted walking stick that Hoggle had gifted him with the previous Yule.

Cracking an eyelid against the bright sunlight, Hoggle glared at his friend. "A'course I look ill… blasted Mountain Troll Ale…does it every time," he grunted, reaching up to mop his forehead with his handkerchief. His hand stopped before he could mop the sweat from his brow, as Hoggle was distracted by the look of the cloth in his hand. Hoggle blinked blearily at it, watching it glitter and shimmer in the mid-morning sunlight.

"My word, Brother, but your handkerchief is far more sparkly than your usual variety," commented Sir Didymus. "In fact, it looks rather like…" But Didymus was cut off before he could continue, as Hoggle gave an indignant squawk and flung the cloth away from himself.

"Jareth's knickers!" squeaked Hoggle, scrabbling away from the offending item, where it now hung entangled in the thorns of the nearby rosebush, the silvery cloth shimmering and casting a fine shower of glitter upon the roses, branches, thorns and ground.

Didymus's muzzle twitched merrily, the long red-gold strands of fur dancing as he fought down the laughter that threatened.

"St. Gaswint's whiskers!" muttered Hoggle, his stomach churning uncomfortably again at the realization of what he had not only been holding, but wiped his mouth with. "Bogdamnit! How did those get into my pocket?!"

It was at this point that the rose bush shook, and a pair of small red boots, followed by a naked goblin arse appeared under it. Didymus gasped in surprise, "I say!" while Hoggle squawked again, his eyes wide in disgust and horror as Gleep backed out from under the bush, naked except for the red boots.

"My knickers!" he said, grabbing the knickers and putting them back on his head, then turning around and grinning at Didymus and Hoggle, one of the leg holes catching around Gleep's pointed green ear, so that the rest of the sparkly material hung (somewhat jauntily) down the side of Gleep's head. "Where'dya find them Hoggle, mate? We was looking for 'em last night."

Hoggle threw up his hands and groaned intelligibly, as he ran into his house, suddenly feeling the need to bathe in the bog or set fire to his hands and face to get the feel of the sparkly material from his skin. Unlike his brother in arms, Sir Didymus merely nodded sagely, "Well now, Gleep…surely it is time to return the King's… um…drawers…back to where you found them before he realizes they are missing?"

Gleep pouted, his tiny fists sitting upon his hips as he stood up straight, still glaring at the fox-goblin. "I found them. They'z mine!"

"Well then… perhaps you should put them on properly, lad? You are…well… quite naked still," suggested Didymus. Unfortunately, Didymus's suggestion fell on deaf ears, as Gleep took that as something to be proud of and gave a rather unsightly wriggle which made certain bits of his anatomy bob and wriggle in a way that made Didymus feel rather ill and unsettled. Deciding that perhaps a show of authority was in order, Didymus drew himself to his full (and still rather diminutive) height and poked Gleep in the bare chest with the end of his staff. "You are out of uniform, my lad. Get out of my sight and back to the barracks immediately, or you'll find yourself cleaning the bog sand with a toothbrush for the next fortnight!" Didymus barked, pleased when Gleep's eyes widened and the little goblin raced down the path toward town. "In hindsight, perhaps I should have demanded he put some clothes on first," mused Didymus, watching the naked ass of the streaking goblin disappear around a curve in the path.

An hour later, Didymus had Hoggle calmed down somewhat, and the two friends were settled in Hoggle's small cottage drinking tea mugs of strong herbal tea. The two drank in companionable silence for some time, before Hoggle gave a deep sigh, his bushy eyebrows drooping.

"Do ya miss her, mate?" he muttered, his voice more gravelly than usual.

Didymus gently tugged at his ginger colored whiskers and nodded, peering sadly into the depths of his earthenware mug, the steam serving to mask the mist his eyes seemed to suddenly produce. "Aye, Hoggle…I do."

Seeing the sadness in his friend's face, Hoggle's head dropped further, "I-I had hoped she might find her way back. She's a special one, she is…" Hoggle sighed, only looking up when a small furry paw patted his hand as it clasped the pocket-watch on the table.

"If anyone could find their way to this world, it's our Sarah," the old fox-goblin said quietly. "Someday, brother Hoggle. Some day she will return to all us. Of this I am sure."

A person might be forgiven for thinking that Didymus was a dottering old fool, who was merely saying that to make his friend feel better, but Hoggle could see that the little knight did believe his beloved lady would someday find her way back to the Underground and her friends. Deep down, Hoggle hoped his friend was right. While their lives did not change much when the portals closed to Sarah, Hoggle feelt that life seemed just a bit less 'bright' without her.

Several silent minutes passed as the two friends lost themselves in their own thoughts and their tea, until they were interrupted by a soft knocking at the front door. Hoggle frowned, he rarely had visitors – at least those who knocked. Didymus would just come in, as would Ludo. And when 'the Rat' visited, he just poofed in and got glitter into every nook and cranny of the little cottage. Sitting his mug down, Hoggle made his way to the cheerful yellow door of the cottage, a door which served as a daily reminder of Sarah, since she was the one who insisted that his home needed a bit of 'color' and had taken it upon herself to bring the paint from the Above. At the time, he'd been secretly thrilled that she cared enough to do such a thing, although when he found out she smuggled Aboveground paint into the Underground to do it, his sense of doubt flared up. The color was indeed bright, but using 'foreign' paint meant that it was a shade of yellow unmatchable by any goblin product – and he was regularly asked about it by others, which posed a problem. Deep down, Hoggle knew that someday, someone would get suspicious about the mysteriously, unreplicatable yellow on his door, and they'd begin to ask some nosy and extremely difficult question. But despite the potential trouble the cheerful golden door might caught, Hoggle just couldn't bring himself to paint it any other color.

Biting his bulbous lower lip, Hoggle peered through the little peephole in the door, then sighed in relief seeing the pretty purple eyed pixie standing outside. He opened the door and smiled, as Didymus greeted her warmly from his comfortable chair by the hearth.

"Ahh…Jerra…welcome dear woman," the fox-goblin said, pushing his old legs to stand.

Jerra smiled at Didymus, waving her free hand as she walked into the cottage, "We're old friends, you and I, Sir Didymus. Remain seated and rest your bones," she said, leaning over to give the little knight a gentle kiss upon his cheek.

Hoggle winced as Jerra entered his home, his faded brown eyes taking in the dirty dishes by his little sink, the dust that coated the books upon his only shelf, and the layer of grime and grease that clung to the inside of the windows. He wasn't used to having females in his house – females other than Sarah at least. Still preoccupied by the messy state of his house, he didn't notice when Jerra turned and smiled at him.

"Do stop worrying about your home, Hoggle. I deal with goblins day in and day out, believe me, your home is immaculate compared to some of the homes I see," she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please, return to your seat and your tea. There is no need to stand on ceremony for the likes of me."

Looking unconvinced, Hoggle nudged the dusty floor with the toe of his shoe, "Um…would you like some tea?"

Jerra smiled and shook her head, as she drew the only other chair toward where Didymus sat. For a moment Hoggle wanted to tell her not to sit in the overstuffed floral chair, his heart aching as she settled against the threadbare material and the faded pink velvet cushion that adorned the seat. It wasn't that the chair was particularly fancy, although it was the nicest bit of furniture he owned. In fact, he hadn't even bought it himself. Sarah had. She had found it in a junk shop near the castle when she was 16 and convinced the shopkeeper to part with it in exchange for some discarded Halloween decorations from the Aboveground. Then she had managed to talk a group of castle goblins to abandon their tasks and carry it to his house for her – something they happily did. Even though it was just a beat up, cast off, likely from the castle, Sarah loved that chair.

As if sensing Hoggle's inner turmoil, Didymus piped up, "So, what brings you by today, Jerra? I'd have thought you'd have your cart at the Goblin Market."

"My apprentice is at the stall this morning, while I make deliveries," Jerra replied.

"I'm not expecting any deliveries," Hoggle protested, sitting down in his chair again, as he eyed Jerra with confusion.

Jerra merely smiled, her purple eyes sparkling. "Ahh…but you do, Hoggle. Both of you do in fact, so it is just lucky you happened to both be here," she said with a grin. "A patron who wishes to remain anonymous has purchased some small items and asked that they be delivered to you personally. So, here I am," she explained, pulling the embroidered cloth from her basket and proceeding to rummage around inside it.

"An anonymous gifter? How unusual," Didymus mused, tugging nervously upon his whispers. "I say… so you'll not tell us who did this?"

Shaking her head, Jerra pulled out two small white pouches, handing one to Didymus and laying the other upon the small table in front of Hoggle. Frowning slightly, Hoggle's eyes narrowed as he looked warily at the small pouch. It appeared to be made of linen, but not the coarse unbleached stuff common in the Goblin City.

"That's not goblin cloth," he muttered, refusing to touch the small pouch.

Didymus nodded in agreement, turning the pouch over in his paws. "Indeed, 'tis far finer weave than is found in goblin stores." Turning his gaze back to Jerra, Sir Didymus arched a ginger eyebrow and pinned her with a stern look. "This looks as fine a linen as the shirts worn by the king and other nobles, where would a simple merchant gain access to such cloth?"

The pixie smiled and patted Didymus' knee. "Rest assured, there is nothing illegal about the linen used or the contents of the pouch, Sir Didymus. Nothing that would cause trouble for a knight of the realm and the Captain of the Guard," she said, ignoring the prickle she felt at the lie. True, the linen and contents were legal in and of themselves, but how the whole item came to be in the Underground was more of a 'grey area' when it came to legality.

"What is it?" demanded Hoggle, nudging the pouch on the table with a stubby finger, then pulling his hand back quickly, as if he expected the pouch to turn into a snake or something.

"It is a simple protection charm," Jerra replied, smiling at the suspicious old dwarf. "I've sold out of them the last month, but held these two back for you both."

Sir Didymus looked up, his fuzzy maw pulling tight over his teeth. "I know about these. The castle horde had a bunch of them and His Majesty found out about them. He seemed quite…interested in them, Jerra," he murmured.

Jerra heard the warning in his words and nodded, "I heard. For the charm to work it must be on your person, but it is best to keep it out of sight. I suggest tucking it in your boot, or inside your shirt. Against your skin would be best."

At this, Hoggle's frown deepened. "I'll have no truck with something that could get me into more hassle with the king," he grumbled with a cranky shake of his head.

"Just…trust me, Hoggle," Jerra said quietly, her tone and words so like Sarah's they gave Hoggle pause. Didymus too was struck by the way she sounded like Sarah. "These are a gift from someone who cares about you."

As one, the old friends nodded silently. Didymus tucked the pouch into his boot, while Hoggle gingerly picked his up and slid it into his shirt, where it lay against his chest. For a moment, he could have sworn he felt the pouch give off a gentle warmth, before the feeling faded. Jerra smiled when they accepted the gifts, then pulled two small metal items from her basket.

"These are amulets," she explained, handing Hoggle one shaped like circular knotwork, while Sir Didymus's was in the shape of a knotwork goblet.

"Wha-what do they do?" asked Hoggle, suspiciously running a gnarled finger over his amulet.

Jerra paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. She had been instructed not to reveal the true nature of the amulets, but as a pixie under license from the king as a merchant of magical supplies and artifacts, she was bespelled so as to be unable to lie to a customer. True, there were generally loopholes, and in this instance, neither Hoggle nor Sir Didymus were actually a 'customer' of hers in the legal sense of an exchange of goods and services – but, she had known them since she first arrived in the kingdom and was loathe to outright lie to either of them.

"Hoggle, yours is for luck and security," she said, twisting the truth in such a way that she was not 'exactly' lying to him, since really, finding love and companionship were really a matter of luck and security. "Sir Didymus, yours is for peace and good health," she continued, happy that she didn't have to lie about the purpose of Sir Didymus' amulet.

Smiling, Didymus slipped the cord of his amulet over his head. "I am honored that someone would wish such things for me."

As expected, Hoggle was less receptive to the idea, skeptically turning the item over in his hand, his mind whirring as he examined the small metal circle.

 _True…one such as me could always use a bit more luck and security is a hard thing to come by when yer surrounded by brainless goblins most of the time. An' o'course, a little luck and security where Jareth is concerned won't hurt neither –_ Hoggle thought, then picked up the amulet and hung it around his neck, but hid it securely under the old brown scarf tied about his throat.

Pleased that the gifts were accepted, Jerra covered her basket and stood to leave, but before she could open her mouth to say her goodbyes, a chiming sound echoed in the cottage, making Hoggle groan. In the next instant, the Goblin King appeared between Jerra and the others, a fine haze of silver glitter shimmering in the air around him. Immaculate as always, the king brushed a bit of glitter off the shoulder of his leather jacket, sneering at Hoggle as the glitter fluttered to the dusty wooden floor of the cottage. Jerra watched Hoggle's face turn red, marveling at the way the diminutive dwarf managed to keep from blustering angrily at the king. Then the king turned and his mismatched eyes caught hers, making her flush in embarrassment.

"Ah…Jerra…imagine my surprise in finding you _here_ of all places," he said, his voice a quiet purr.

"Um…you…you were looking for me, Sire?" she managed to say, sounding more calm at that revelation than she felt.

The Goblin King nodded, his feathery hair bobbing slightly at the movement. "Indeed I was, as I find myself needing to have a quiet word with you on both business and kingdom matters. Although, finding you in the presence of two of my trusted advisors is rather… _convenient_ …given the matters we must discuss." Three throats clicked and gulped nervously, while the Goblin King silently regarded the dwarf, the fox-goblin and the pixie.

"Convenient, Your Majesty?" Sir Didymus asked, tugging slightly at the collar that hid his amulet. "And why is that?"

Jareth pulled a crystal from the air, taking his time to examine it, before glancing up at the others, his pale eyes narrowing, as his lips curled into a supercilious smirk. Turning his hand over, he dropped the crystal upon the floor where it shattered, a regal chair appearing behind him. The Goblin King adjusted his gloves as he sat upon the chair, swinging his left leg over the arm and propping his head upon his right hand.

"Convenient, Didymus, because Jerra is clearly involved in some potentially, 'questionable' sales activities, which could have a negative impact on both herself and the kingdom as a whole," he drawled, flicking a bit of glitter from his arm, much to the irritation of Hoggle.

"I…I…" Jerra began, feeling her blood run cold as the Goblin King arched an eyebrow and looked once more in her direction.

"Youhave been selling hedge witch magic to the populace," Jareth said, then snapped his fingers and the two pouches Hoggle and Sir Didymus had secreted upon their bodies appeared in his open palm. "And you two," he growled, casting a dark glance their way. "I wouldn't have thought you'd stoop to such things, when you are employed by the king himself. My magic is greater, as you well know…so tell me… _why_ would you do such a thing?"

Hoggle glared at the king, while Sir Didymus' whiskers twitched.

"They were gifts, Your Majesty," replied Didymus, watching the king warily as he opened one of the pouches and sniffed the contents.

"Nutmeg, mint and sage," he murmured, then poked a leather gloved finger into the pouch. "If I had to guess, I'd say this was a protection pouch. Am I right?"

Didymus nodded, while Hoggle fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I am not familiar with this stone…what is it, Jerra?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested, then smiled at the nervous look on Jerra's face. He could see the momentary look of panic in her lilac eyes. "Don't bother trying to lie to me, Jerra. You are a pixie, your magical skill lies potions and Underground nature magic, not Aboveground hedge witchery. You don't _know_ what the stone is, because _you_ didn't create the pouches, did you?"

Groaning inwardly, Jerra shook her head. "No, Sire…I did not," she whispered, hanging her head as her heart raced in her chest, her fingers twisting into the pale green linen of her skirt.

The Goblin King nodded, pursing his lips. "I thought as much. This is human magic, which means that there is an undocumented human in the kingdom…."

At that, Hoggle's eyes widened and he gasped softly, his voice almost inaudible, "Sarah…"

Jerra felt her heart clench in her chest, cursing herself for not seeking a proper importing contract with the crown, despite Sarah's objections. Before she could react, the Goblin King was out of his chair and hand hauled Hoggle from his own chair, with a gloved hand fisted in Hoggle's shirt.

"What of Sarah?" he demanded, his tone hard and insistent. "Has she returned to us…the kingdom?" he asked, quickly trying to cover for his slip up.

"No…no, Your Majesty. My brother misspoke, Sire…he just…we both… we…" the fox-goblin sighed. "We miss her is all, Sire."

Jareth's expression shifted momentarily, his pale eyes flickering with a deep sadness before they reverted back to his customary aloof expression. He dropped Hoggle back into his chair, then turned to look at the pixie, who shrank back a bit in her chair. His lips twisted at her reaction. Yes, there was clearly something the pixie was hiding from him.

"So tell me, Jerra… you are either aware of an undocumented human in the kingdom or you are importing items from the Aboveground without consent of the crown," he purred, dangling one of the white pouches upon a gloved finger and examining it closely. Something about the pouch felt familiar to him, but he couldn't place why. Turning his eyes to Jerra once more, he smirked. "I think it is time that you…how do the Abovegrounders put it?" he chuckled, then, placed his hand on her shoulder. "Oh yes…that's it…it is time for you to come _clean_ , my girl."

With that, Jareth and Jerra disappeared, leaving a cascade of glitter falling upon the cottage floor.

"Damn and blast that rat and his bloody glitter," grumbled Hoggle, then gently ran his finger over the white pouch that had appeared back on the table in front of him, his brown eyes stinging slightly as he felt the faint stirring of a magic he hadn't felt in over a year. "Sarah…" he whispered, then looked at Didymus who was gazing at his pouch with awe as well.

* * *

Translations:

1: Protect the one who bears this charm, from those who wish to do them harm.

 **Author's Note:** As always...please review!


	3. The Truth Be Told

 

Jerra’s eyes clenched tight at the world-bending feeling of being transported, her stomach lurching disconcertingly at the sensation. She’d been in the Goblin Kingdom for five years, but had only had the dubious ‘pleasure’ of being transported twice – this being the second time.  The first time was when the King had stumbled upon the ring of thugs in the Outer Wastes who were taking turns at the young pixie, while she was chained in the back of a rickety old wagon.

She nothing of her first transporting experience, and very little of what transpired leading up to it. If she were honest with herself, that was probably a blessing in disguise. The pixie had been picking jumping mushrooms in the forest near her parent’s home on the northern shore of Mistfell Lake, when a man in dirty brown breeches and a leather jerkin stepped out of the bushes. He carried a coil of nettle rope in his hands, his black eyes narrowing on her, while a twisted smiled pulled at his lips.  Then a second man stepped from the bushes, carrying a filthy looking sack. She remembered trying to back away, only to be stopped by a third man, who grabbed her hair roughly, jerking her backward until she was looking up into his heavily scarred face.

“We’ll get a pretty penny for this one at the markets in Djusteppe,” he laughed.

Jerra didn’t even get a chance to scream, before she was struck hard on the back of her head. She woke up some time later, naked and bound in the back of an old wagon. The sky was dark, but she recognized the path they were on as a disused merchant trail that wound through the hills of Aieren, leading toward the Djusteppe Plains. She lost track of how long they travelled along the rocky path. With each bounce of the wagon wheels on the road, the iron manacles tore at her flesh, leaving bleeding tracks and pus-filled sores from the poisoning of the metal. Considering what they could have done to her, Jerra was almost thankful that they seemed to want to sell her at the markets, so none of them had laid a hand on her, except to beat her.

Some days they remembered to feed her, carelessly tossing scraps of rotten flesh at her. Gagging she would pick up the meat and drop it over the side of the wagon, which only angered them further. They would scream and rant at her, threatening to force her to eat it, and each time she would refuse – she was Pixie. No meat would pass her lips. If she were lucky it might rain and she could catch a few drops of the refreshing liquid upon her swollen tongue and parched lips.

One night the thugs decided there were other ways they could taste her ‘charms’ that would not lower her selling-price. She remembered screaming and trying to fight, but being without proper food and water for so long, she was no match for them. The last memory she had of the thugs was the scarred face of the one called Talun, just before he roared in pain, a long, vicious blade protruding through his chest. A dark figure in black dragonhide armor had descended upon the clearing like the mythical ‘Cleaners’ she had been told inhabited the lower tunnels of the Labyrinth. He roared loud enough to silence the animals of the forest, as he whirled through the small encampment, the bone-rending clangs of metal blades terrifying her. Curling as small as she could in the back of the wagon, Jerra clenched her eyes tightly and prayed to the Goddess that the beast who was so easily destroying the thugs, would have the kindness to kill her quickly.

She was so terrified that it took her a moment to realize that the screaming and sound of swords striking bone and flesh had stopped. Her keen Pixie ears tilted, scanning the area for movement. The struggle may have been over, but someone was still there. She could hear a body being moved, then a low guttural growl in a language she had heard only once before – Gobylin – the language spoken only by elder goblins who advised the notorious Goblin King and one other being – The Goblin King himself.

Cracking an eyelid, Jerra gasped seeing a figure in black leaning over her, his face haloed by feathery blonde hair, tipped randomly with blood red. Seeing the oddly mismatched pupils, framed by the steeply arching eyebrows of the High Fae, she knew exactly who had saved her and to whom she now owed a blood debt – and the knowledge chilled her to the core.

 Her savior was the Goblin King.

“Are you injured?” he demanded, his tone curt. Seeing her wide-eyed look, he shook his head in irritation. “Of course you are. Stupid question, really” he grumbled, berating himself and leaving Jerra even more dumbstruck to hear a king scold himself in a such a manor.

A feathery cloak appeared from nowhere, the downy feathers caressing her bare flesh gently as he wrapped it around her, before bending to free her from the rough iron shackles that bound her. Seeing the damage that the mortal metal had caused the young Pixie made him snarl. “Damn them, there will be scarring,” he said sounding somewhat apologetic as he tenderly bound the red and festering flesh. When he was satisfied that the wounds would come to no immediate harm, he gave her a gentle smile. “Come, I will take you to a healer,” he said, scooping her carefully into his arms. Then Jerra’s world twisted in upon itself and she knew no more.

True to his word, he delivered her to a healer, but not just any healer. No. The Goblin King delivered her to the healer to the royal family of Avalon, the personal healer of the High King and Queen. And there she was fostered until she was old enough to choose a kingdom in which to live.

In hindsight, the fact that she had fainted the first time she was transported by the Goblin King was a blessing. Her second experience was far more disorienting.

When the world unfolded from around her, Jerra’s head spun, making it impossible to open her eyes. Gasping she gripped the sides of her head, a dizzy moan spilling from her lips. She clenched her eyes tight against the roiling feeling inside her body that made it impossible to tell what whether she was facing up, down or sideways, as the room seemed to be in motion, moving and swirling under her feet. If it weren’t for the firm grip of the Goblin King’s hand on her arm, she likely would have fallen in a heap upon the stones. As it was, the moment she cracked her eyes to figure out where she was, the room spun with such force that her knees wobbled, then buckled entirely.

“Sit, Jerra,” the Goblin King instructed her, his tone warm, but firm enough to let her know that there would be no arguing – not like she was had any intention of contesting such a sensible order. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a chair from a nearby table slid across the stones and gently nudged the back of her knees, essentially forcing her to sit upon it.

Feeling numb, Jerra sunk gratefully into the chair, still holding onto her head as if it would spin around her shoulders if she didn’t.

“Take slow, deep breaths. I’m told it helps,” suggested the Goblin King, finally releasing her arm.

Jerra took a long shuttering breath, filling her lungs fully. The world seem to settle a bit with each breath she took, until her head finally stopped spinning – for the most part. Blinking, she took her first look around and was pleasantly surprised. She had expected to be taken to the formal receiving room, or even the dungeons. Her first impression of the room was that it was definitely a place of work. The wall near her was filled with bookcases and filing drawers of heavy wood, each one seemed near to bursting from the papers that spilled from them. One end of the room was taken up by a humongous fireplace, with an elaborately carved stone mantel and surround, depicting creatures of all types that inhabit the Labyrinth and the Goblin Kingdom. The other end of the room was filled with warm afternoon sunlight, as the whole wall looked out onto a balcony. Through the open curtains and balcony door, she could see the Labyrinth rolling and twisting off to the horizon. In front of the window sat a large desk, the top of which was covered with yet more stacks of papers, quills and blotting papers scattered willy-nilly, alongside pots of ink and maps.

It was only when the Goblin King draped himself casually across the ornate leather desk chair that she fully realized where he had brought her. This was no mere library or the work room of the castle steward, or the King’s advisor. No, this was the Goblin King’s own office, where the ‘real’ work of the kingdom was undertaken.

“Now then, my dear Jerra. I believe it is time for you to unburden yourself to your King,” the Goblin King said.

His crystalline eyes narrowed as he looked at her, tapping his steepled fingers against his chin. Jerra felt her stomach sink at the intensity of his gaze and the stern tilt of his lips.

“Um…I… don’t understand, Sire…,” the small Pixie stammered, feeling a cold lump settle in her throat, threatening to choke her on the lie.

The sound of laughter from the Goblin King was the last thing she expected to hear.

“A lie, girl? And not even the courtesy of a good one?!” he chuckled, his eyes fading to their usual merry shades of blue. “Come now, Jerra. Do you think I’ve gone soft in my advanced years?”

“You’re not that old, Sire,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks burn under his studious look.

The Goblin King tilted his head in the owlish way that belied his birthright. As he blinked at her, his eyes flashing golden and predatory for a brief moment, before shifting once more to crystal blue, like the lakes of the Mistfell Mountains of her homeland.

“I may not be ‘old’ in the traditional sense, yet I _am_ old enough to know when one of my subjects is lying to me, Jerra,” he replied, the amusement fading from his tone as his words became sharper. “You have been importing magical goods of questionable quality from the Aboveground _without_ a warrant from the Crown. This is an offense punishable by hard labor in the rock mines along the Dwarven Borderlands, girl.”

Gulping, Jerra nodded. She had known since she and Sarah first discussed the idea, just what the penalty might be should she ever be caught. Of course, she wouldn’t go alone to the stone mines, her accomplice would be interred there as well. Fighting to swallow the lump in her throat, Jerra blinked, her eyes stinging with the effort of holding back the tears. She didn’t beg when the thugs assaulted her, she wasn’t about to beg for leniency from the Gobin King.

As if sensing her distress, Jareth waved his hand, a fine linen handkerchief appearing in the air in front of the diminutive female. “Relax, girl. I have no intention of sending you to the stone mines for importing some hedgewitch magic from the Aboveground. You and I both know that while I may be a terror to those who would seek to abuse my lands or my citizens, to those that are loyal to my Crown, I can be quite generous,” he said, giving her a quiet yet thoughtful smile. “Besides, the only harm that has come of you peddling the magical trinkets is that you are parting gullible goblins from their money.”

Plucking the handkerchief from the air, Jerra scrubbed at her violet eyes, sniffing nervously and nodding. “Thank you, Sire. What would you have me do to atone?”

The Goblin King unfolded himself from his chair and smoothly glided around the desk,  leaning lightly against it as he regarded her, a sly smile playing at the corner of his lips. “What I want is simple. I want you to tell me who you have been importing these items from.”

Jerra felt the blood drain from her face. Somehow she knew this would be what he would want, but to hear it for herself still came as a shock. “I…I don’t have a partner, Sire. I’ve been sourcing them from various shops that the mortals call ‘new age’.”

All gentleness faded from the Goblin Kings expression and he growled, “That’s two, girl. Lie to me a third time and I might change my mind about the mines!”

Cringing, Jerra ducked lower in her chair, twisting the handkerchief between her fingers. “But Sire…”

“I’ve examined every one of the pouches that the castle goblins have and they all bear the same magical signature, so there is only _one_ person making these,” he snapped testily, his entire countenance seeming to pulse with irritation.

“I…I…can’t….Your Majesty… I gave my word that she would not be harmed or revealed in this arrangement. She knows of the Underground, but I swear she speaks of it to no one. She is loyal, Sire. I promise. Please… I’d do anything else…even serve my sentence in the mines,” she pleaded, her voice cracking at her last words.

Frowning, the Goblin King shook his head. “No, Jerra. You will not be sent to the mines, although I am disappointed that you would dishonor your blood debt to me by not only lying to me _twice_ , but refusing to give me that which I am within my right as King to demand of you.” He glared at the Pixie for some time before returning to his chair and drawing out a blank sheet of parchment bearing the royal seal. Picking up a quill he dipped it in the ink pot and began to write.

The room was silent except for the rhythmic scratching of the Gobin King’s quill across the fine parchment, and the still panicked breathing of the frightened Pixie. After several minutes the Goblin King blotted the parchment, then carefully rolled it up. Holding it closed, he dripped a thick pool of purple wax upon the join, then firmly pressed his ring to it, sealing the parchment with the royal crest of the Goblin King. Rising once more, again he moved to Jerra, the deep thud of his boot heels upon the stones seeming to echo in time with the Pixie’s heartbeat.

“Since you will not divulge the name of your ‘partner in crime’, I have no choice. Take this to her. It is an official summons. You and your partner are to present yourselves at the Lughnassad Festival Open Court. At that time I will officially grant you both a pardon. Then following the closing court of the festival, we will sit down and hash out a proper warrant for the importation of foreign magic,” he said, offering the Pixie the sealed summons.

Jerra’s mind raced as she took the scroll. She could not possibly refuse her King a second time, but there was no way she would be able to convince Sarah to present herself in accordance with the summons. Sarah had been adamant that she did not want her identity to be known to the Goblin King, as he would surely want to know how she and Jerra met – and she did not want to reveal that she had found a way to traverse the mists between the worlds, unaided by Labyrinthian portals.

“But…Sire….”

The Goblin King’s eyes narrowed upon the pale face of the Pixie. “Don’t try my patience, Jerra. You have refused the blood debt you owe me _and_ lied to me. Think _very_ carefully before you deny my wishes on this.”

Glumly she nodded, feeling a heavy weight settle in the pit of her stomach. “Yes, Sire.”

“Good. Now go. I expect to see you and your partner bright and early for Lughnaasad Court. If you are not here, I will send out the High Court Guard to retrieve you both for formal trial at the High Court,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously at the way the young Pixie squeaked and her face turned pasty. “Ahh…I see that you finally understand just how serious I am about this.” Nodding briefly at her, he turned his back and moved to his desk chair once more. “You are dismissed, Jerra…but remember…you belong to my Kingdom, and I know everything that goes on in my Kingdom.”

Jerra jumped up from her chair, clutching the parchment in her sweaty palm as she scurried from the room, a petulant voice in her mind laughing, “Hah! If you knew everything you’d know who my partner was.”

Cringing inwardly, Jerra wasn’t sure who’s wrath she’d rather face – the King’s if he knew she was working with the girl who bested him, or Sarah if she found out Jerra had (however briefly) considered betraying her to the King.

At times like these, she was glad that her true allegiances lay elsewhere. The only downside is they put her in this precarious position in the first place.

The little pixie didn’t stop running until she was tucked up in her little cottage outside of the Goblin City, nestled between Roaring Spring and Firey Forest. When she reached her home, she carefully shut the door and sealed the windows, her bare feet silent on the wooden planks of the flooring, worn smooth and glossy from years of use. When the cottage had been sealed from prying eyes, she approached the small mirror with the faded golden frame hanging above her wash basin. Slowly she swirled a fingertip along the center, murmuring softly in the language of the Ancients.

_Gwyr lian wuan garra._

Faint swirls of purple and blue began to shift across the mirror, as a familiar pair of eyes appeared, the rest of the face shrouded by the mists.

“Mistress… I have news, which may change your plans,” Jerra said, the Goblin King’s handkerchief still clutched tightly in her hand.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

The frantic footfalls echoing back down the hall as the Pixie scuttled frantically from his office, made Jareth smile, pleased at the knowledge that he had gotten her to understand just how serious her predicament was. True, he would be within his right as King to sentence her to the mines, in truth he would do no such thing to Jerra. She had suffered enough in her short life. He remembered the way her limp body felt in his arms after her attack, and the shallow breaths she took, as her body neared the point where her soul would be forced to move from the physical plan and flow beyond the veil. Pixies, by their very nature, were fragile creatures, but Jerra had been through something horrific – something she had refused to speak of, even to Hialean the healer for the Royal Family of Avalon.

Although Jerra never spoke of it, Jareth knew what he had seen and he would not risk sending the Pixie to the mines, where she might experience far worse.

Still, she needed to be reminded that he was the King and his word was law.

Leaning back in his chair, Jareth shut his eyes and opened his senses, tracing the threads of the Labyrinth as they covered the kingdom. The Goblin City and outer villages surrounding the castle were quiet and lazy – which was to be expected after the carousing that always accompanied Lady Sarah’s Victory Day – aided in no small part by the special casks left in each town and village -- A gift for his people. As much as he hated the fact that she had beaten him, he admired her for it and saw no reason to discourage the celebrations.  Even the Goblin King had celebrated, although his celebration was far more subdued than those of his people. Rather than taking to the streets to dance and sing, the King had retreated to his private tower. There, wrapped in the downy feathers of his cloak, he allowed himself to relive every moment of her Labyrinth run. Relive them and mourn that which he had lost.

Some might call it torture – a pointless exercise in self-flagellation. But in Jareth’s mind it was no less than he deserved for impulsively giving his heart to the girl. That hadn’t been part of the plan. The plan was, as it had always been when a runner got to the end – offer them their dreams again and ‘sweeten’ the deal in some way. For most runners, offering them riches and power was enough. However Sarah was different. All through her run, the Goblin King had monitored her actions, mulling over every decision she made, while subtly teasing his mind through her emotions and dreams. Riches and power would not sway the girl. Had she been fully-grown he might have tried to seduce her into his bed, a tactic which worked more often than he’d care to admit. He might have felt guilty for it, if it had not been for the fact that he had to do nothing, it was all an illusion anyway. For a brief instant they would feel as if their ‘dream’ was true, then it would fade and they would find themselves alone in a dungeon cell. While he might offer them the promise of his attentions, it was always an empty promise.

Then there was Sarah.

As the final seconds ticked down, he knew that seducing her was not an option. She was young and innocent, too pure a dreamer to sully in such a way. He wanted to blame the Labyrinth for what happened, but now he wasn’t sure how much of it was the desire of the Labyrinth to keep the beautifully innocent dreamer, or his own longing for a companion on the throne – but in the end it didn’t matter why he did it, only that he did. In the end, he offered the blasted girl himself. And in those words… ‘fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave’, the Goblin King gave a sacred oath. An oath which now bound him to Sarah, until she either accepted the offer, or formally freed him from his obligation.

Of course, the fact that she said those damnable words further compounded the problem.

_You have no power over me._

Oh, how he hated those words.

The moment she said them, he was bound from going to her unless she called specifically for him. She had effectively barred him from ever getting free of his oath to her – and worse still, she had no idea what she had done, or what it would cost the Goblin King. For the truth of the matter was, no matter how much Jareth did not want to admit it, he had spoken his heart to the girl, so even if she somehow managed to find her way to the Underground and formally free him from his obligation, he would be never truly be freed. Fae males would only declare their love once and in so doing, entered into a magical contract – the only children he might then sire would be those of the woman to whom he had given his oath.

And for Jareth… that woman was Sarah.

Sighing deeply, Jareth opened his eyes, feeling a hard lump in his hand. Puzzled he looked down at his clenched fist, then slowly uncurled his gloved hand, revealing the small red linen pouch he had found abandoned in the throne room. He tugged at the thin pink cord that held the pouch closed, then upended the pouch on his palm. A pink crystal, carefully sculpted into a heart. Six rose petals. And a small stub of a red candle, engraved with a marking he could not decipher.

Decipher it or not, he knew what it was for.

Love.

If he could find some way to have Sarah free him from his oath, then he might still find love. Of course, no children would come of it, so there would be no direct heir to the kingdom. Other kings would be horrified that he would seek love if no legitimate heir could come of it, but Jareth wasn’t like other kings. At the end of the day, he could nominate one of his nephews or nieces to take on the kingdom. What he longed for most of all was someone to love and love him in return.

Toying with the contents of the pouch, Jareth smiled sadly. “Someday, I’ll be free to love again,” he murmured, his voice a mere whisper, swept away by the warm breeze of the late summer afternoon, as it drifted through the open balcony doors.

Jareth dropped the crystal heart, rose petals and candle stump into the pouch, then pulled the laces tight once more, before tucking the little parcel back into the top of his boot.

“Where Fae magic won’t work, perhaps a little mortal magic will,” he mused, picking up his quill and turning his attention to the stacks of correspondence scattered across the top of his desk.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** As always...I live for reviews so...please leave a contribution in the little box :)

 


	4. Courting Disaster

This was a bad idea.

In fact, Sarah was 100% positive that this was a terrible idea. Probably the worst idea she had ever had, with the single exception of wishing Toby away to the goblins in the first place. Yet, despite the knowledge that this was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing she could possibly nonetheless she was going to go through with it. She was going to return to the Underground and face Jareth – in open court no less!

“It’s not too late to back out,” Jerra suggested, her petite frame curled up on the end of Sarah’s bed. The pixie’s lavender eyes followed Sarah’s movements in the vanity mirror. “I’ve got a friend who can grant us sanctuary where the Goblin King has no power.”

Sarah looked at the glowing vial of green and gold swirled liquid on her desk and shook her head. “Do you trust the friend who gave you the cloaking potion?”

Jerra nodded. “There are few in the Underground with as much power as the one who made it. It will hide your true identity from the High King himself, so it will certainly work on one of his line.”

Startled by that revelation, Sarah turned and looked at her friend. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No…the potion is strong,” Jerra replied, her violet eyes narrowing in confusion.

Shaking her head, Sarah laughed, “No… I meant about Jar…the Goblin King, being related to the High King. He’s got to be a bastard, right? How did he get a throne of his own if he isn’t legitimate?”

It was Jerra’s turn to laugh. “How is it that you’ve known of the Underground all this time, yet you have no real idea of the culture?! Oberon is notorious for his illegitimate children, he has no legitimate male heirs, as Titania only bore seven daughters. Besides, the Goblin King’s throne isn’t hereditary in the traditional sense. It is won through solving the riddle of the Labyrinth, without magical power. The Goblin King is the only one of Oberon’s line who has attempted such a thing. No one else dared take on the sentient maze. Jar…The Goblin King surprised everyone when he won the right to rule the Labyrinthian Kingdom by beating the maze and solving the true riddle of the land. Some say that he so impressed Oberon with that, that he has become the favored son to be granted the High Throne when Oberon abdicates for the Summerlands.”

Sarah blinked, her green eyes wide as she tried to take in all that Jerra had said. She had an excellent imagination, and even she had a difficult time imagining Jareth as the High King of the Underground. All she could picture was Jareth in the tight grey breeches and elaborate leather jacket, leaning over her in the tunnels, his thin lips curled in a supercilious smirk as he purred at her in a voice that made her stomach flutter and swoop with want.

 _Want? Where the hell did that come from_?! She thought irritably, grabbing her hairbrush and jerking it roughly through her hair. _I don’t want the Goblin King. He’s a self-absorbed, arrogant, jerk._

“I can think of no one who would make a worse High King than that petulant, strutting peacock of a Fae,” Sarah grumbled, turning back to the mirror and viciously ripping her hairbrush through her hair, the strands snapping and popping with the force.

Confused, Jerra watched her friend, puzzled by the sudden burst of vehemence toward the Goblin King. “I think you’ll find that the Goblin King you met is an act, Sarah. Compared to many Kings of the Underground, the Goblin King is viewed as ‘odd’ because he doesn’t follow typical court protocols of rules, fancy dress and such. He can actually be quite generous to those of his subjects who obey his edicts.”

 “Hah! I find that hard to believe,” Sarah muttered, more to herself than Jerra.

Rising from the bed, Jerra stood behind her friend, resting her hands lightly on Sarah’s shoulders. “You don’t have to do this. Sanctuary is available, just say the word.”

With a sigh, Sarah shook her head, then smiled into the mirror at her friend. “No. I may not want to face the pompous peacock, but I’m not going to put your life or mine at risk by ignoring the summons. We’ll go.  We’ll settle the warrant and then I will leave and never return to the Underground.”

Jerra felt her stomach sink at Sarah’s words. Her Mistress was sure that Sarah was destined to return to the Underground, and it was Jerra’s duty to encourage that. Picking up a wooden comb, Jerra began to plait Sarah’s hair. Sarah continued talking, describing new products she was making for sale to the citizens of the Goblin City – But Jerra as only half-listening.

She remembered the lazy summer evening when the dark-haired young woman had suddenly appeared in her cottage. Jerra has been relaxing with a cup of tea while processing some herbs for the market, when a loud thump sounded from her armoire. Arming herself with the fireplace poker, Jerra had crept up to the armoire, her heart racing the continued thumps and muttered words coming from inside it. When she flung open the door, a soaking wet Sarah fell out, grumbling, “Well that didn’t work as planned.” Seeing Jerra pointing the fire iron at her, the girl had given her a sheepish grin and offered her hand in that strange way that Abovegrounders had. “Hi…I’m Sarah. And I’m assuming this isn’t Kansas?”

“Kansas? I don’t know of that village. This is Goblin Grove, along the southern outskirts of the Goblin City,” Jerra replied. “Who are you? And why are you in my armoire?!”

“I’m Underground?” Sarah gasped, her grin growing, as did the puddle of water spreading across Jerra’s floor from the dripping clothing of the girl. “Excellent. But this is definitely not Hoggle’s cottage…unless you’re his girlfriend?”

“Hoggle’s girlfriend?! Certainly not,” Jerra gasped in horror, then grinned, lowering the fireplace poker and helping the girl up from the floor. “Though I hear he’s rather smitten with a red-haired witch named Ylese.”

At that point, being a Pixie and therefore naturally curious, Jerra did the only thing could do – she asked the strange wet woman to tea. Jerra couldn’t believe that _The Sarah_ was sitting in her kitchen, drinking tea and laughing.  From that day on the women had been friends, with Sarah popping into Jerra’s cottage several times a week. Then on her 18 th birthday, she arrived late at night, in tears because her mirror portal had closed. Discussing it, the two decided that the Goblin King must have realized the mirror portal was still functional and blocked it, trying to keep her from the Underground. That night they decided it would not be safe for Sarah to continue to use the portal. From then on, Jerra used the merchant’s portal to the Above to visit Sarah.

“So what do you think?” Sarah asked, her words breaking into Jerra’s reverie.

Glancing down, Jerra saw that she had finished plaiting Sarah’s hair, neatly pulling it back by running golden cords through the twists. “Um…think…about what?”

“About offering poppets in the shape of chickens? Like I said, the goblins love chickens and chicken dolls are popular with children and goblins alike, so why not make poppets like that?” Sarah said, twisting to look at Jerra and chuckling. “You were a million miles away just now. I’m going to be okay to do this, the question is…are _you_ going to be okay?”

Jerra nodded and settled back down on Sarah’s bed, twisting a bit of golden cord from her belt, through her slender fingers. “Yes, I’ll be fine once it is all over.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road,” chirped Sarah, hopping up and blithely throwing off her dressing gown. One of the things she had learned early on in hanging out with the Pixie, was that Underground social mores regarding matters of nudity were far more lax than Aboveground. After five years of friendship, she no longer worried about changing clothes around Jerra – there was no need to be shy or reserved in that way.

Sarah picked up pale yellow chemise and pulled it over her head, before stepping into the rust colored kirtle of heavy weight linen. The kirtle was cut low over her bust, and the tight lacing at the back forced her to arch her back slightly, which pushed her breasts upward, allowing a generous portion of creamy flesh to show. Sarah was no prude, she’d gone to parties in nothing but a mini-skirt and corset, but somehow, despite being fully covered, the amount of flesh showing at the top of her dress felt almost indecent -- which felt odd to Sarah.

“I don’t know why I have to wear so many layers,” she sighed, looking at the green overdress with the deep gold sleeves that still had to be put on. “Why can’t I wear something simple and comfortable like you?” she asked, eyeing Jerra’s long green skirt and flowing peasant styled chemise top covered in embroidered flowers of green, gold and red – the colors of summer.

Laughing, Jerra picked up the green overdress to help Sarah put it on. “I’m a Pixie and a simple caravan peddler. This clothing is appropriate to my station. You are a human and a merchant. You must dress according to your class.”

Sarah hurrumphed and tugged at the skirt of the green dress, while Jerra began to work the fastenings at the back. Once upon a time she would have relished the chance to ‘play dress-up’, but at the moment she just felt restricted. “I suppose the King requires such formality,” she sighed, examining the lovely embroidery on the goldenrod colored sleeves, twining vines of deep green and summer poppies of garnet flowing smoothly over the fabric.

“Actually, formal court days are the only time I’ve ever seen the Goblin King dressed in a manner similar to most other High Fae. Usually he dresses simply, like his people,” Jerra replied, slowly walking around Sarah and fluffing out Sarah’s skirts. “There, you look lovely. You’ll fit right in, once we mask your identity.”

Steeling herself, Sarah picked up the vial of glowing potion and uncorked it. She sniffed gingerly and was pleasantly surprised by the scent of mint and roses that drifted from the neck of the crystal vial. “So, I’ll be glamoured…kind of like the Jedi mind-trick. ‘This is not the Sarah you hate’,” she quipped giving Jerra a cheeky grin, only to be faced with a blank look from the Pixie.

“Jedi mind-trick? What Kingdom do these Jedi live in?”

“Nevermind. It’s not important,” Sarah laughed, then raised the crystal vial, “Slainte` or as us mere mortals say…bottoms up!”

Sarah clenched her eyes tightly as she down the potion, waiting for the inevitable pain or burning sensation that she was sure would accompany such a magical potion. But nothing happens. Waiting, she flicked her tongue over her lips, marveling at the taste -- apples and mint, with just a hint of raven’s blood spice, a rare Underground herb that was only available in Theraliyn – the city that lay just inside the inner walls of the High Court, at Avalon. As the last hint of hard to get spice faded from her tongue, Sarah couldn’t help but wonder just how Jerra had gotten hold of this potion, or more precisely, who she had gotten it from.

Slowly she cracked her eyes and looked at Jerra. “Did it work?” she asked, then registered the somewhat stunned look on her friend’s face. “I’m guessing by your expression it did. I’m not a cat am I?” she asked, thinking how awkward it would be to manage sitting on chairs with a tail, although Sir Didiymus seemed to manage fine.

“No…you’re…you’re a changling…” murmured Jerra in shock.

Spinning toward the mirror Sarah squeaked, “You didn’t say that the potion would change my race!!” Blinking she tried to reconcile the reflection in the mirror with herself and failed utterly. The woman in the mirror was supernaturally beautiful. The green of Sarah’s eyes was intensified until they practically glowed, with one eye vibrant emerald, the other a glittering moss green. Her eyebrows arched steeply above her eyes in the style characteristic of the High Fae in the Underground. Running her fingers over her eyebrows she gasped, “Shit! They’ll think I’ve got royal blood in my line. Shit! Shit….double-shit!”

Jerra patted her shoulder gently. “It will be fine. Remember, High Fae mate with humans regularly, so there are illegitimate changelings all over the Aboveground. If anyone should ask, just say you were put out for adoption and have no idea of your lineage.”

 “Adopted…yeah… okay. I was adopted. Good,” Sarah nodded and muttered to herself. She nibbled her lower lip, marveling at the reflection in the mirror. Her usually slender lips were more plump and reddened naturally. Over her shoulders flowed hair that shifted from ebony to auburn depending on the movement of her body, curled in lazy ringlets, which was a nice change from her usually stick-straight hair.  All in all, she looked vaguely like herself, but at the same, nothing like herself.

Glancing at Jerra in the mirror, Sarah frowned. “You’ve seen me more often than the Goblin King. Would _you_ recognize me if you didn’t know it was me?”

Numbly Jerra shook her head.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah straightened up and turned to face the Pixie, her vibrant green eyes narrowing. With a determined air, she picked up the black leather pouch on her dresser and tied it to her belt. “Okay, I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be. Let’s do this.”

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Despite visiting with her friends often after her adventure, Sarah hadn’t set foot inside the gates of the Labyrinth proper or the Goblin City since the fateful night when she (through no fault of her own, she often told herself) left the city in ruins. As she and Jerra joined the throng of petitioners and spectators vying to enter the Goblin Castle for the Lughnasadh Formal Court, Sarah peered curiously around the city, trying to take it all in. Either her memory was faulty or things had changed dramatically in the five years since her run. The old stone buildings of the city were no more; replaced with newer structures, covered in brightly colored shingles and painted cheerful shades of yellow, blue and white. While the city was still rustic, it was also cleaner and brighter. If a city could be ‘happy’ then it felt like the Goblin City was happy.

The jubilant crowd moved slowly but steadily from the gates of the Goblin City, through the main thoroughfare of the market district, toward the bridge great stone bridge that led over the moat surrounding the castle grounds. With each turn in the path, Sarah was greeted with fascinating sights and sounds. She marveled at the sheer number of pubs in Goblin City, each one with a sign out front proclaiming their status and name. The Black Pullet. Oberon’s Beard. Fox and Sword. Dwarven Strumpet and even one that claimed to be called ‘Kingy’s Knickers’ – that one caused her to giggle wildly, much to Jerra’s amusement.

“You’re in awfully good spirits, considering what is about to happen?” she shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

Sarah merely shrugged and smiled, the happiness of the throng infecting her. Somewhere inside, she heard the quiet inner voice point out that the warmth and joy she felt was likely to be Lughnasagh magic, pulsing through the very land in this magical place. It made sense really. For that moment at least, she had no worries about anything, and only wanted to be carried along by the jubilant celebrations of the city around her. The late afternoon sun was warm as it beat down on the crowded streets of the Goblin City, warming the stones and the people dancing and singing in the streets on their way to the castle.

Turning around another bend in the path, Sarah was dumbstruck to find a large, gloriously flowering public park. A group of musicians, including goblins, dwarves, pixies and at least one Fae-changling played for the throng of subjects as they passed, with members of the crowd happily singing along at the top of their voices. In that instant, Sarah felt as if she were one of the subjects of the land, her voice joining theirs in song.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

As he gazed down upon the singing throng of Goblin Kingdom subjects making their way toward the castle, Jareth smiled. The land was happy and it showed in the joyous sound of its people, a song he wished to join. Sadly, as the King, he had things to do before he could give in to the ancient song now singing within his very body. Jareth lifted his bare hand, turning it over, almost entranced by the twisting lines embedded in his flesh, each line pulsing with amber light in time with his own heartbeat – the heartbeat of the land itself. With each passing minute he could feel the thrum of magic grow stronger, calling him once more to the land. He longed to plunge his hands into the sun-baked sheaves of wheat waiting to be cut as the sun rose on the first day of Lunasa.

Pushing back the feeling of desire to rush to the fields, the Goblin King picked up the fine leather glove sresting upon the balustrade of the balcony and slowly began pulling them onto his hands. Soon his subjects would fill the formal throne room and spill into the castle forecourt. Festival courts were always packed to capacity, with creatures of every race and species. Luckily, the goblins had finally learned that they had to be dressed and chicken-free if they wished to attend holiday courts at the castle. The clothing requirement was tolerated by his minions reasonably well, but they object to the lack of chickens which they seemed to think brought ‘festive touch’ to anything. As a result, very few of the castle minions attended formal court functions, preferring to hunker down in the military barracks and begin drinking – and quite frankly, Jareth felt things went more smoothly when they were safely away, drinking themselves into a stupor.

A subtle hum rose in the air, followed by a faint crackling sound,  Without turning around, Jareth chuckled, “Happy Harvest, Father…and Mother,” he said, smoothing his gloves fully over his slender fingers before facing his unexpected guests.

The High King and Queen stood in Jareth’s bed chamber, robed in shades of brilliant goldenrod, deep emerald and crimson. Oberon smiled at his son, whose pale blue eyes mirrored his own, stroking his plaited beard and nodding. “A Happy Harvest to you too, my boy,” he said, his booming voice sinking into the stone walls of the room, until the very stones seemed to vibrate with the deep tenor.

Jareth lightly kissed the High Queen’s hand, “Madame, you are glowing. Don’t tell me that I have yet another sister on the way?” he teased, then paused, his eyes wide as Titania merely smiled and patted her stomach in a satisfied way.

“Assuming the given precedent holds, then yes, you should have another sister come Beltane,” she laughed, as Oberon hugged her close.

Arching an eyebrow Jareth regarded his father, “And is there a reason that this has been kept secret from both the court and family until now?”

“Come, sit a moment before court, my boy and we will explain,” Oberon said, gently guiding his wife to a comfortable chair in Jareth’s sitting room.

The queen settled gracefully in the chair, an overstuffed pouffle appearing beneath her feet. Oberon followed her, sinking upon the sofa with a happy sigh, leaving Jareth eyeing them both warily.

“Okay, enough of this happy families routine, Father. Something is up and I would know what it is. You two haven’t attended a fire festival in my kingdom since my first sister was born, which suggests that this is no mere social visit, nor simply an errand to share your happy news – not when a messenger could have been sent.”

Oberon chuckled, the sound a rumbling purr in his chest. “So suspicious, my boy. But as usual, you are quite astute in your observations. We have not come merely to attend your court or share our news. The quickening of this babe has been difficult for my wife, so we kept our news quiet until we were sure the babe would survive,” he said, beaming warmly at his wife, who returned his adoring look with one of her own.

“And what does that have to do with joining me, unannounced I might add, for formal festival court?” Jareth asked, still wary of the High King and Queen’s motivations.

“Quite simply, Jareth… we have come to inform you that I have made the final decision regarding who will inherit my throne,” Oberon said, his crystalline eyes boring into his son as he waited to see how the boy would react.

Jareth felt his blood burn in his veins for an instant, before chilling him to the core. The heir to the High Court Throne. Ruler of all the Underground and the Avalon Isles. His father had finally decided which of his sons would follow him in rule. For years it had been rumoured that Jareth was the natural choice, he had taken on the Labyrinth challenge and won, where many others had failed before the outer gates had been breeched. Jareth however, had always assumed there was no truth to it, since his father rarely seemed to care what he did – not since he was a child. Rather it was Llywellyn who was heaped with their father’s praise and attention.

“So Llywellyn is to inherit,” Jareth replied, sounding unimpressed as he tugged slightly at the lace cuff of his cream colored shirt. “I don’t know why that required a personal visit, Father…not that I don’t like seeing the two of you and sharing in your happy news, but everyone has known for some time that Llywellyn was the favoured son.”

Oberon’s booming laugh shook the stones of Jareth’s chambers, the low tenor teasing against the chiming laughter of Titania.

“Honestly, Jareth,” laughed Titania, shaking her head. “If that were true, do you really believe we would have traveled all this way?”

Frowning at the laughter, Jareth glared from Titania to his father, realization slowly dawning on him.

“You can’t be serious, Father,” the Goblin King began, only to be cut off by a wave of the High King’s hand.

“Indeed I am, my boy. I have decided that you shall inherit the throne when I pass to the Summerlands. We will make the official announcement at the Yule ball at High Court, and a special announcement here for the Goblin Kingdom’s Yule fire festival. In the meantime, we thought it best that you knew of the plans, so you could reconsider your need of a wife. We should like to see you wed by next summer,” the High King said, ignoring the stormy glare his son gave him.

“Father, we’ve been over this… I cannot wed…” Jareth protested, this time to be cut off by Titania.

“Yes, yes…we are quite aware of your little ‘slip up’ in giving that Sarah-girl your oath of love, Jareth,” Titania said, her violet eyes shimmering sadly. “It is regrettable, but not insurmountable, darling. And while you may not sire a legitimate heir or marry for love, that is of no consequence. You need a companion on the throne.”

Jareth felt the joy of the land’s magic pulling at him once more, urging him to give in and ignore the anger that was now fighting for dominance within him. Shaking his head, Jareth ran his fingers through his hair until it stood wildly around his face. “I…I have to concentrate on the festival. The land is calling to me already, so I really cannot deal with this issue just now.”

“That’s fine, my boy. I do understand that you have things that must be done for your festival,” his father said gently, his pale eyes gleaming with sadness for a moment. “In truth, Jareth… while many would laugh at the idea of marrying for love over power, I do not. I wish all of my children to find that happiness in their lives. Perhaps this Sarah-girl might yet release you from your oath and at least let you find love.”

Inside him, Jareth felt ice seem to settle into the space where his heart had been the moment before. Even his father assumed that Sarah would sooner release him than accept his offer. _I was a fool to think that the blasted girl could ever accept me!_ He hissed inwardly, turning away from his fathers pitying gaze.

“The girl could come to her senses and realize her love for you, Jareth,” suggested Titania as she got up, her gentle hand resting upon her stepson’s arm.

“As lovely a dream as that might be, Madame, it will not come to pass. Sarah has passed the age of majority in the Above, so her connection to our world was cut-off. She has had no contact with our world or my subjects since that day. I fear she will not find her way to us again before the ‘deadline’ you have given me,” Jareth snapped, his words bitter in both sound and taste.

Patting his arm, Titania gently nudged him, her words soft and tender, “Never lose hope, darling. That is the most powerful magic there is. Without it, even our magic fails.”

“Come, Titania…let us take our place in the throne room gallery for the open court. I’m sure the Goblin King has things to prepare before the festivities begin,” Oberon said quietly, offering his arm to the High Queen.

Jareth stepped back out onto the balcony with a loud sigh, the joyful thrumming in his blood now dulled by his parent’s request and the knowledge that Sarah would never know of his oath to her, or be in a position to accept it. It had been five years. Surely if she were going to find her own path through the mists to the Underground, she would have done so by now and made herself known to her friends.

Frowning, Jareth shook his head, jerking the gloves from his hands to bare them to the warm sunlight as it began its slow descent from the sky. He shut his eyes, blocking out the sadness that threatened to encompass him, as he allowed his magic to flow from his hands, drawing upon the magic of the land in an effort to recapture the joyous feeling of the festival magic that pulsed beneath the land. Slowly he felt the magic start to beat within him again, making the king-making marks upon his body pulse with the heartbeat of the land. He was the King. And as King he was one with the Labyrinth and her land. This was his home in a way no other land could be. Centering himself further, the Goblin King let his mind and magic soar, tasting the sweet summer essence of the very land itself – while the Labyrinth wrapped her magic around her Master to soothe his wounded heart.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

“Who’s that?” Sarah muttered in Jerra’s ear, while surreptitiously pointing upward toward the gallery at the left of the room. The upper gallery hung over the lower court, providing comfortable seating for those of what had to be noble background. All of the seats had been taken, except two and it was those two that now demanded Sarah’s attention.

Peering up, Jerra gasped in awe, as did others in the room at the sight of the white-bearded man and petite blonde Fae now seated in the front row of the royal gallery. “That’s the High King and Queen. I haven’t known them to ever attend a festival here,” she replied, feeling her stomach knot. The last thing she needed was the High King and Queen recognizing the magical signature that now glamoured Sarah – they could ruin everything that she and her Mistress had been working toward.

A loud trumpeting sound kept Sarah from asking any further questions. All around her the spectators and petitioners on the main floor of the court began to bow or curtsey. She felt Jerra tug on her hand, as the Pixie curtseyed low with the others. “Curtsey and don’t look any higher than his knees until he is seated,” Jerra instructed, her voice a hushed whisper, nearly lost in the rustling of clothing as people showed their respect to the King.

Nodding, Sarah followed suit. Without looking up, she knew the instant the Goblin King entered the room. The air seemed to buzz with electricity which made her blood itch in her veins. Upon the air she smelled a scent she thought she would never experience again, spicy yet earthy. A scent she knew belonged to one being – The Goblin King. From their position along the center aisle of the court, she could hear the sharp click of his boots and the creaking leather of his formal regalia. As he neared them, the scent grew stronger, making Sarah’s blood boil within her at the sheer predatory sexuality of it. _How can I be the only one that feels this?_ She thought, fighting down the feeling – but it was no use. With each breath the scent of him threatened to set her aflame or make her faint. Her heart raced in her chest, with each sharp footfall. Then he was there, in front of their bent bodies and she could no longer control her body or her mind.

With a small gasp her legs gave out, dropping her onto the stones of the throne room with such force that she was sure she had cracked bone, the pain making her give a muffled cry. Muffled but still audible, her cry was followed by silence as the footsteps stopped, leaving Sarah cringing as her mind flashing up a Technicolor image of just how awful she must look -- on her knees on the floor of the Goblin King’s throne room, splayed on the flagstones at such an angle that her forehead nearly touched the floor, her whole body now in the main aisle of the room.

Murmurs and gasps rippled about the room like a wave. “The nerve!...attention seeker… probably a rejected lover….How rude!...She touched the king without permission!”

Sarah felt the sharp pricking of tears springing up under her tightly shut eyelids, as she willed herself not to cry in front of the Goblin King and his whole court.

 _‘ShitshitshitshitfuckmeohshitI’mdeadsodeadhe’llknowit’smefuckmylife!_ Her mind screamed in a panic. Even in the midst of her panic, the scent of him seemed to seep into every pore of her being, sending a jolt of want into the very heart of her. A miserable whimper seeped past her lips, as a drop of liquid warmth slid slowly from her core. _‘OhmyGodsthisisn’thappeningwhatthefuck?! What was I thinking in coming to court?!?’_

Venturing a peek between her clenched eyelids, Sarah moaned seeing a pair of highly polished boots, right under her nose. Somehow, she had fallen in such a way that she was practically kissing the Goblin King’s boots. _‘How could this get any worse?!’_ she screamed inwardly. _‘Please let the glamour hold…pleasepleasepleaseplease!!!’_ she begged any and all deities that might be listening.

Sarah heard the leather creak further, then the the scent of him crashed down over her, as he bent down. “While I appreciate the sentiment, this really isn’t the time or place to do this, Madame,” the Goblin King said, his voice an amused purr. “Let me help you.”

Swallowing thickly, Sarah cracked her eyelids once more to find a gloved hand nearly touching her nose. She allowed him to wrap her hand in his and stood, wincing when the pain in her knees flared to life. “Um…thank you, Your Majesty,” she murmured, trying to ignore the disapproving looks and gossips already wagging their tongue about the strange woman.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Although it wasn’t the first time he’d had a woman throw herself at his feet, it usually happened in private, and was usually precipitated by the Goblin King ending the dalliance or initiating a more ‘intimate’ game. In all his many years of dealing with the females, this was the first time it had happened during a formal court—as such Jareth was uncertain whether to be irritated or amused. Given the joyful hum of the land, he decided that gracious amusement was the most suitable course, after all it wouldn’t have been the first time a woman had fainted in his presence.

Carefully he bent down and extended his hand to woman, momentarily mesmerized by the ebony sheen of her hair, as it shifted from velvet blackness to a purple-tinged brunette. When she grasped his hand he felt the a sudden burst of heat sing through his body, following the twisting lines of his king-making marks. Puzzled, his eyes narrowed as she braced herself with his hand and stood, only to blink in surprise at the familiar face that stood before him – a face that had haunted his dreams.

“Sarah?” he murmured, the thrum of magic rushing through him once more as he looked at her.

“I…I can explain,” the woman stammered, trying to free her hand from his.

The Goblin King blinked slowly, willing his racing heart to slow. _‘This is not my Sarah,_ ’ he thought, then slowly opened his eyes. For an instant he saw Sarah, before her visage shifted into that of a lovely brunette I…I thought you were someone else,” he murmured, then noticed the way her face pinched and she winced upon standing.  “You’re hurt,” he said, her hand still wrapped in his gloved fingers.

“It’s just a bruise, I’ll be fine,” she mumbled, trying to pull her hand from his, while her eyes never left his boots. “I’m terribly sorry for disrupting things, Your Majesty.”

“Come,” he said turning toward the dais with sure steps, his hand firmly grasping that of the strange woman as he led her toward the front of the throne room. “And you too Jerra.”

Jerra’s eyes flew wide at the King’s casual acknowledgment of her presence, but she stumbled along after her King. Reaching the front of the room, the Goblin King waved his hand and two empty chairs appeared next to the chairs filled with lesser nobility along the curved wall that flanked the throne room. “Be seated until your case is called,” he ordered, guiding the changeling to a chair and waiting until she was seated before releasing her hand.

Turning on his heel, Jareth made his way up the steps of the dais to his throne and settled into with a nod toward the gathered spectators and petitioners. “You may rise,” he said, his voice taking on the ethereal quality usual for those of High Fae rank when addressing their people. “Alesander, call the first petitioner.”

Try as he might to keep his mind on the cases being called before the court, his attention kept drifting toward the brunette with the mismatched green eyes. With the dark hair and striking green eyes, he could be forgiven for thinking she was Sarah. Yet the more he studied her, while appearing to be listening to the cases before him, the more Jareth realized that she could not possibly be Sarah. _‘She’s a changeling…a quite lovely changeling with High Fae blood, obviously,’_ he mused, watching her out of the corner of his eye. _‘But that doesn’t explain the way my magic reacted to her touch.’_

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Hearing the Goblin King murmur her name, Sarah was sure that she was sprung and would wind up in a dungeon before she could explain. But to hear him turn around and apologize as if he didn’t recognize her left her stunned. The last thing she expected was to end up seated with the Goblin Kingdom nobility, much less being escorted to her seat by none other than the king himself. The whole thing was like some sort of surreal nightmare – the only saving grace was that she was fully clothed.

Sarah glanced down quickly, then breathed a sigh of relief to find that she was still clothed in the merchant’s dress that Jerra had provided for her. Running her hand over the embroidered panel on the front of her skirt, she heard the quiet murmuring scattered through the throne room and could only imagine the horrible things that would be said about the changeling and the pixie. Sarah held her head up and tried to keep her expression a mask of indifference, but it was difficult when she kept catching glimpses of hateful looks coming from others in the room – primarily women. She tried in vain to block out the embarrassing events and concentrate on observing court, but her mind was unable to focus on anything but the Goblin King and the electric sensation that went through her at his touch.

Rather than continue fighting the desire to look at him, she simply gave into it, tilting her head so that her hair would fall partly over her face to obscure the fact that her eyes were locked on the darkly handsome figure of the King. She watched his every movement, drinking in the sinewy grace with which he gestured in responding to petitioners as if they were the richest of desserts. A slight smile curled her lips when she recognized that he was wearing the same regalia he had been wearing when he had first appeared in her parents’ bedroom. Breathing slowly, she closed her eyes for a moment and found that she was almost able to smell the leather even from their seats by the wall.

The court itself was a seemingly endless procession of petitioners seeking the King’s justice for various petty complaints. Following the petitioners, four nobles and two kings of various areas were called forward, each escorting a young woman. Sarah nearly choked when the first one presented his daughter as a potential wife for the Goblin King. The girl had a pasty complexion and a somewhat vacant expression. Sarah held her breath, waiting for what she was sure would be a burning insult, yet none came. The Goblin King merely thanked the noble for his offer and turned him down, stating that he was not seeking a wife at this time, and therefore no suits would be considered. Five more times this pattern was repeated – even the princesses presented by their royal fathers were turned down. To say this surprised Sarah would be an understatement. Pursing her lips she surveyed the Goblin King more closely. He really was an ethereally beautiful man. She imagined that he could have his pick of any of the women in any kingdom, if he wanted, yet he seemed to have no interest – at least not in any of the women presented to him.

 _‘He probably has a concubine or something…that’s what King’s do…’_ suggested her inner-self, while her libido purred lasciviously. _‘Where do we sign up for that job?!?!’_

Lost in her inner debate, she didn’t hear the advisor announce Jerra’s name, until Jerra stood up, tugging on Sarah’s hand.

“Do come forward, ladies,” the Goblin King said with slight smile, gesturing toward stairs in front of the throne. “And there is no need to kneel this time,” he added with a soft chuckle.

All around the room, spectators and petitioners tittered and laughed, the sound making Sarah’s cheeks burn as hotly as the anger rising in her throat. Ignoring the way her face seemed to be glowing, Sarah’s eyes narrowed at the Goblin King. Reaching out, she squeezed Jerra’s hand as the pair walked toward the Goblin King. Jerra started resolutely at the Goblin King’s knees, Sarah kept her eyes on his face. _‘I’m not one of his subjects, so I’m not going to let him scare me,’_ she growled to herself. _‘He’s a pompous, arrogant, bully.’_

Nodding at Jerra, the Goblin King smiled, “I am familiar with Ms. Jerra Evensong and her wares, however you I do not know, madame. Please tell the court your name.”

_Shit!_

All of the preparation they had gone through to protect her identity, and neither Sarah nor Jerra had thought of a name for her. Frantically Sarah’s mind churned, keenly aware of the expectant look the Goblin King was giving her.

Arching an eyebrow, his amused look increased, “Has my presence rendered you so speechless that you fail to remember your own name?”

At the sound of laughter in his voice, Sarah’s head snapped up further. She wasn’t sure whose laughter hurt worse, the Goblin Kings or that of the other spectators. “Charlotte. My name is Charlotte.”

The Goblin King smiled and leaned forward, propping his forearms upon his thighs as he regarded her. “You are not one of my subjects, yet you seek a business arrangement with Jerra here and have exported your goods to my kingdom without a warrant from the Crown. You do realize there is a grave punishment for such an act, do you not?”

Refusing to give in to his intimidation, Sarah’s gaze never wavered, pinning him with her emerald eyes and nodding. “Such a crime is punishable by time in the dwarven mines.”

“Are you not concerned that I will sentence you to such a fate,” the Goblin King asked, his lips curling slightly at the flash of fear that crept into the steely brunette’s eyes.

Sarah’s jaw tightened as she looked at him, unwavering in her gaze. “I would be crazy not be worried that you will do that, Your Majesty. I may be an Abovegrounder, but I have heard the stories of the fearsome Goblin King,” she answered, clasping her hands together to keep from twisting them in her panic.

Gasps and murmuring could be heard throughout the throne room at her words. Too late Sarah realized that she had been more terse than she probably should have. The Goblin King however, didn’t seem upset by her tone.

“I see. Well then, isn’t it lucky for you that this is the Lughnassagh opening court and that one of the traditions of this day, is for me to grant a single pardon of my choosing,” he replied, his pale eyes darkening at the fire he saw in her. _‘She might not be my Sarah, but she definitely has Sarah’s fire,’_ he mused to himself as he watched her shoulders relax slightly.

Rising from his throne, the Goblin King flipped his cloak back with a sharp snap, looking from the girls before him to the rest of the assembled spectators and citizens. “Let it be known, that I, Jareth mac Aubergon toísech clainne Dagda, King of the Goblins and Master of the Labyrinth, do decree that the charges brought forth against these women on behalf of the Crown be ruled null. Upon the close of the great festival, the ladies will meet with myself and my chief advisor of trade, to create a suitable importation warrant. So say I!”

The throne room erupted in cheering and clapping at the pronouncement of the pardon. Unable to make himself heard over the din, Jareth waited, his hand raised until the chaos died down. “Further to this, as Miss Charlotte is an Abovegrounder and required to remain in the kingdom until the end of the festival, she shall be accorded full right of passage within the Goblin Kingdom for the duration, as well as being placed in guest quarters within the castle,” he announced, smiling as the throne room erupted in cheering once more.

Sarah could feel the hateful looks boring into the back of her skull, her mind racing at the implication of Goblin King’s announcement. Sure, she’d been pardoned, but the summons said nothing about her having to stay in the Underground until the festival ended at noon on Sunday. She wasn’t even sure that the potion would last that long.

“That’s a lovely offer but….” She started, only to feel Jerra’s nails dig into her palm.

“Yes, it is a most generous and gracious offer, Your Majesty. We would be most honored to accept. Thank you,” Jerra replied, her tongue practically tripping over the words in her haste to agree to the offer before Sarah caused further problems by declining.

Sarah glared at Jerra with wide green eyes, her lips pursed into an irritated line. Before she could grab Jerra and demand an explanation, the Goblin King clapped his hands sharply. The sound of his clap echoed loudly throughout the throne room, silencing the throng of spectators and guests.

“And on that note, court is dismissed. The feast will begin in the forecourt and Goblin City park grounds at 7pm. Guests of the court are invited to refresh themselves in their quarters until then. Gealach fómhar sona!” he shouted, his words rewarded with a jubilant cheer from the crowd, before everyone made their way out of the throne room.

Ignoring the jostling crowd, Jareth looked down at the young women before him. With a smile he reached for Sarah’s hand and raised it to his lips. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Charlotte.”

Unable to help herself, Sarah gasped as a jolt of electric pleasure raced up her arm, her eyes glazing over while the Goblin King gave her a mischevious and positively lascivious smirk.

“Alesander will show you to your rooms. As I am quite sure you were not prepared to stay for the entirety of the festival, suitable clothing and other necessities will be provided for you both. Should you need anything else, simply seek out Alesander and he will see to your needs,” he added, his lips wrapping around the last word and caressing it in a way that made Sarah’s knees wobble once more, as the scent of the Goblin King threatened to overwhelm her again.

“Um…thank…you….” She whispered, relieved when the Goblin King released her hand, winked at Jerra, then left the throne room.

“If you will follow me, ladies, I will show you to your rooms and leave you to refresh yourselves before the evening’s festivities,” Alesander said, his words clipped but not unkind. With a smile, the tall, raven haired hobgoblin turned and walked from the room, leaving the two stunned girls staring gape-jawed at each other, then Alesander’s retreating back.

“This was a _very_ bad idea,” Jerra muttered, grabbing Sarah’s hand and hurrying to follow the King’s Advisor before he disappeared from view.

“Uh…huh,” was all Sarah could manage to say, her mind still trying to reconcile the fact that Jareth had not only kissed her hand, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he was actually flirting with her.

 _Could this day get any weirder?_ Demanded her inner-self, while her libido crafted several scenarios in which the day could definitely get weirder and far more pleasurable – all of which involved the Goblin King, his ever-present crop and considerably less clothing than Sarah (and the King) were wearing when they last met.

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	5. What Happens in the Garden, Stays in the Garden

Pausing in front of a heavy wooden door carved with images of elves and fauns frolicking in wood, Alesander turned the golden doorknob and thrust the door open as if it weighed nothing. “Here are your rooms,” he announced, stepping back so that the young women could enter.

“Oh my…” was all Sarah could think to say as she laid eyes on the lavish guest suite, her mind frantically trying to take it all in at once and failing miserably.

Alesander followed them into an expansive parlor. The outer wall was taken up with a large set of French doors which opened out onto a balcony, bordered by rose colored brocade curtains, held back with golden cords. Upon the balcony sat a small table and chairs, perfect for enjoying breakfast while overlooking the rolling hills, forests and ever changing lanes of the Labyrinth. The doors were open, letting a gentle summer evening breeze swirl through the gossamer curtains, carrying the smell of warm soil, fruit and baked bread into the room. Glancing to the left, Sarah saw a large fireplace, surrounded by beautiful mosaic tiles depicting what appeared to be the myth of the unicorn and princess. In the grate were several logs, already laid to be lit later in the evening.

The floor in the middle of the room was covered with a lovely tapestry rug, depicting two unicorns flanking a dragon, who balanced a crystal orb in his hands. As the light hit the threads of the tapestry rug, they shimmered, glittering like silken gems. One side of the rug was taken up by a large velvet sofa of deep purple, with overstuffed cushions accenting it in shades of rose and pink. Sarah could already see that it would be the ideal place to curl up with a book and a cup of tea, while watching rain fall upon the balcony outside. On either side of the sofa stood pale pink velvet wingback chairs and dainty end tables, which held golden reading lanterns. While Sarah and Jerra took in the lush beauty of the room, Alesander bustled about, opening doors, his movements speaking of a man who was accustomed to efficiency of form and function.

“Is this suite not suitable, my lady?” he asked, arching an eyebrow questioningly at her. “It is the finest guest quarters in the castle. His Majesty keeps these rooms reserved for guests of the High Court, as such they are the only rooms not yet assigned for the festival.”

Gulping Sarah shook her head, stammering as her eyes darted around the room, “No…oh my no…it isn’t _that_ at all. They are…this is… well…it’s just so lovely. It’s too much just for… us. We’re…we’re no one important.”

The hobgoblin regarded the two young women quietly for a moment, then surprised them both by smiling warmly. “His Majesty has seen fit to not only pardon you both, but make you a guest of the Crown for the festivities, therefore you are now as important as any of the nobility that crowd the castle at the moment,” he said, then gestured toward the two doors. “Through here you will find two bedrooms with a shared ensuite.”

Moving toward the first of the open doors, Sarah gasped in awe. The bedroom was massive, with a gigantic four poster bed set against the far wall. Each end post of the bed was ornately carved with twisting vines and flowers that seemed almost alive, and twined with sheer green curtains. Across the top of the bed was a sheer green canopy embroidered with three-dimensional flowers and vines. Just looking at them, Sarah could almost smell the luscious scent of flowers hanging in the air. The carpet completed the garden theme, the deep green silk threads dotted with woven flowers of blue, violet and pink.

“It’s like a fairy bower,” she murmured, afraid to step foot into the lovely room.

“Indeed, it is High Queen Titania’s favourite room in the castle,” replied Alesander. “For obvious reasons.”

Sarah coughed, looking wildly at Alesander. “Wha…. The High Queen is actually _the_ Titania.”

Alesander’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked at her, “There is only one High Queen Titania, so I assume she is _the_ Titania you are referring to.”

Biting her lip, Sarah nodded, “I…yeah…I just…I don’t know how much you know of Aboveground culture, but we have a playwright who….”

At that Alesander rolled his eyes and groaned. “Oh, you must mean Master William. Yes, I am familiar with his work and in that case, yes…the High Queen _is_ ‘that Titania’. But it would be best never to mention _that_ work of his around the Queen. She is still rather touchy about how she was depicted. Poor Master William is still atoning for that faux pas,” the castle steward laughed, his grey eyes sparkling merrily as he shook his head.

Sarah found herself gaping at the raven-haired hobgoblin, idea that Shakespeare had been writing about the real High Queen was a difficult reality to face. Snapping her mouth shut, she nodded, only vaguely aware of Alesander breezing past her into the bower room and opening a door next to the bathroom. “Each room has a wardrobe that is fully stocked with the sorts of clothing you might need for your time here. There are dresses appropriate to receiving guests in your parlor, for the feast tonight and for the festival bonfire tomorrow night, as well as clothing for working in the fields tomorrow if that is your desire,” he added, pulling a dress from the closet. “All of the clothing is enchanted, so when you put it on it will automatically adjust to your measurements and then remain at that size for you,” he said, before tucking the dress back into the wardrobe and shutting the door. Moving to the dresser he pulled open several drawers. “The dresser is stocked with nightclothes of various sorts, as well as the appropriate underpinnings for any of the clothing provided. Rest assured, all of the clothing is brand new and unworn. As a guest of the Crown, you are welcome to keep any or all of the clothing provided for your use. It will only be destroyed upon your departure.”

Jerra whistled softly as she peeked in the closet, “That would be a horrible waste to destroy it all.”

Alesander paused and smiled at her, nodding briefly, “Indeed, it would. Luckily, guests such as yourselves are rare at the Goblin Castle.”

Frowning Sarah glared at him, “What…you mean commoners?”

Blinking in surprise, Alesander looked puzzled, then shook his head as realization crept into his grey eyes. “Oh no, Miss Charlotte. That is not what I meant at all! I simply meant that we rarely have guests who arrive with none of their own belongings, therefore providing a wardrobe for them is costly, but is generally a once a year thing, so it is not that much of a burden on the castle budget. Please remember, the fact that the King himself has dictated these rooms for your use and given you full right of passage means that for the festivities at least, you are not only granted citizenship of the kingdom, but temporary noble status.”

Sarah felt her world spin as the breath in her lungs seemed to collapse in on itself.

“Lady Charlotte!” gasped Alesander, reaching for her arm as her knees wobbled.

“Sar….lotte!” Jerra squeaked, rushing to her friend’s side in such haste that she barely caught her error before revealing Sarah’s true identity to the castle steward.

The hobgoblin and pixie gently helped Sarah to the bed and sat her down, before releasing her. Stepping back, Alesander regarded her carefully, his light grey eyes shifting to darker shades of pewter in his concentration.

“Perhaps it would be best if I called the castle healer to check you over prior to the feast,” he mused, only to be cut off by Sarah.

“No really, I’m fine. Nothing that a bit of a nap and a snack won’t fix,” she said, frantically looking at Jerra who nodded in agreement.

“Thank you,” added the pixie, smiling at the hobgoblin who was clearly not convinced. “It’s just been a stressful day, what with coming to court and now being put up in the castle. She just needs a bit of rest and some food and she’ll be fine. Humans get…um…low….”

“Blood sugar,” finished Sarah, nodding. “Yes…low blood sugar.”

Alesander frowned, his lips pursed in a firm line as he looked from the pixie to the changeling. “His Majesty would be furious if you were ill and I neglected to send for appropriate aid.” Snapping his fingers, a small female sprite appeared suddenly next to him. The sprite’s skin was a luminescent shade of pale blue, complimented by silver hair that flowed down her back in a heavy braid. “Cheryse, see that Miss Charlotte and Miss Jerra are brought a suitable snack. Some fresh bread, cheese and smoked meats would be good, as well as some fruit. Perhaps some peaches from the latest orchard delivery.”

Sarah felt her blood turn to ice. “P-p-peaches? Um…no…I’m…I’m terribly allergic to them and would be violently ill. Please, anything but peaches.”

The small sprite looked at Sarah and nodded. “Yes, Miss. Would apples be more palatable?”

Mutely, Sarah nodded, her mind racing with the implications of eating the food here. Sure she’d eaten a bit of that damn peach the first time she was here, but while that didn’t seem to bind her to the Labyrinth, she didn’t know what a full meal would do. “Um…wait…Alesander… I’m human-ish. If I eat the food here, wouldn’t I be trapped here?” she asked, feeling the ice in her veins settle in the pit of her stomach.

Tilting his head, Alesander gave her a thoughtful look, then shook his head. “You are referring to the Persephone lore?” When Sarah nodded, he smiled, “That only applies in the Goblin Kingdom if you eat fruit from the King’s private orchard. As a guest of the Crown, you are safe from anything that would bind you to this kingdom against your will. Please do not worry yourself over that. I am sure that the King would deal gravely with anyone who attempted to bind you here in such a way. Feel free to enjoy all food and drink while you are here.”

Sarah felt herself relax a bit with the reassurance that she would not be trapped here.

“Now then, if there is nothing else you require, I must go supervise final preparations for the feast. As guests of the King, you will naturally be expected to join him in the King’s gardens to enjoy the feast with the other castle guests. Following the castle feast, you would be welcome to venture into the city to celebrate with the rest of the citizenry if you should desire to do so,” Alesander said, swiftly walking toward the suite door. “Cheryse will bring you a snack, then return for you shortly before 7, in order to escort you to the King’s gardens. Should you have any difficulties, merely touch the blue crystal upon the mantel and say her name, and she will arrive to assist you.”

Giving a brief bow, Alesander swept from the room, leaving the girls still sitting on the bed in the bower room, too stunned to fully process what had happened.

“Wow….” Mumbled Jerra, fiddling with the end of one of her violet plaits.

“You can say that again,” muttered Sarah, flopping back on the bed and draping her arm over her face. “What are we gonna do?”

Flopping down next to Sarah, Jerra sighed. “Not much we can do, I’m afraid. The King has given orders. We have to obey them or face the consequences.”

Sarah groaned, then peered at Jerra from under her arm. “Is the potion going to last long enough to get me through this? Or do you need to go get more?”

“You should be okay. The potion is supposed to last until the dark of the moon or until you leave the Underground, whichever comes first,” Jerra replied, her eyebrows knitting together as she stared at the embroidered flowers softly rustling overhead. “So…yeah, we should be okay. I mean, I hope we are because the only way I could get more is to go to my cottage so I can contact the person I got it from, and we are guests of the crown, so leaving the city is out of the question without risking the anger of the Goblin King.”

With a deep sigh, Sarah rolled off the bed and walked out onto the open balcony. The sun sat low on the horizon, bathing the Goblin City in deep hues of orange and pink. She could already see lamplighters making their rounds through the streets of the city, lighting the street lamps, as throngs of revelers wound their way through the cobblestone streets singing and dancing. In the distance she could see the fields of wheat, waiting for the ceremonial harvesting to begin as the sun rose in the morning. There was something mesmerizing about the sound of the singing rising from the city, and the gentle swaying of the wheat in the fields. Sarah was no gardener, but there were times of the year when she felt called to dig her hands in the dirt and join with the land. While the Labyrinth was not her home, for some reason she felt the itch in her blood to dig into the soil of this strange and oddly hypnotic place.

“So…what does one wear to a feast at the Goblin Castle anyway,” Sarah asked, resigning herself to the fact that she was going to be the guest of the Goblin King for the weekend – whether she liked it or not. She only hoped she would be returned home before the dark of the moon began on Sunday evening.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

“No! Absolutely not. I will not wear this,” Sarah protested, frowning at her reflection in the mirror as Cheryse laced up her dress. “It’s not decent!”

“Of course it is, my lady,” insisted Cheryse, draping a necklace of golden vines around Sarah’s neck. “This is actually quite demure compared to what many of the ladies of the High Court would wear to such an event.”

The dress was composed of the silken material that was so gossamer that she was sure a light breeze would tear it to shreds. Worse still was the fact that it was nearly see-thru. True, the dress was made of many layers of the material, shades of green ranging from vibrant emerald to pale moss. Just the movement of her chest as she breathed made the layers of material slide sensuously over each other, shimmering until it was nearly impossible to tell what color the dress was, as all shades of green blended into one constantly varying color.

Technically she was ‘decent’ as her stepmother would have described it. The dress did cover her bust fully, twisting up around her neck in a halter, but it was the fact that the ‘V’ between her breasts dove nearly to her waist that made her blush furiously. The thought of the Goblin King seeing _that_ much of her body, was both oddly thrilling and horrifying at the same time.  Given that the skirt felt to the floor, one would think that it would be acceptable, but even the skirt was causing Sarah distress. It was made of many long, narrow diamond shapes of the thin material, overlapping and stitched at the waist – but no where else. If she moved wrong, she would give whoever was looking a fantastic view of her thighs and other ‘charms’.

“I look like a virgin sacrifice,” muttered Sarah. “Is this how women in the Goblin Kingdom dress?”

Cheryse paused and studied the changeling curiously. “Well, that depends…. A ‘Goblin’ woman would never dress in such a manor. This is the court fashion of Avalon, so many of the Goblin Kingdom nobles will emulate it this evening. They rarely visit the High Court and only get to dress up for festivals and balls.”

“So what would a true ‘Goblin noblewoman’ wear?” Sarah asked, eyeing the gossamer dress with distaste. “If the Goblin Kingdom had a queen, what would her ladies in waiting wear?”

The sprite’s eyes widened in surprise. “You… you would consider wearing what a _real_ Goblyn woman of noble rank would wear?”

Nibbling her lip Sarah briefly reconsidered this plan, then nodded. “If it is more decent than this, then yes. Yes I would.”

Cheryse blinked at Sarah once more, then peered into the wardrobe. “No such garment has been provided for you, Lady Charlotte.” The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face was noticed by the young sprite, who patted her arm reassuringly. “But I know Madame Vange, the seamstress. She will know where such a garment would be. I will be back as soon as I can.” Before Sarah could change her mind, the sprite had vanished into thin air.

“I don’t know, I think that dress is lovely,” Jerra said from her vantage point on the bed, wearing a similar dress in shades of blue that complimented her violet hair and eyes. “Besides, given the way the Goblin King was looking at you all through court, I rather think he’d like the way you look in it…or out of it.”

Snatching up the hairbrush from the dresser, Sarah launched it at the pixie’s head. “Shush! Don’t say such things! It’s bad enough that I am stuck here through the festival. But the last thing I need is Jar…the Goblin King taking a liking to Charlotte. I just need to stay out of his way and get through this weekend. Then I can go home before he knows that I am still able to access the Underground. There is no telling _what_ he would do if he knew that!”

Jerra picked up the brush, idly fluffing up the ends of her carefully curled hair, her pale violet eyes narrowing in pensively. “Just a question, but… why are you so sure he’d be angry with you?”

“Unlace this monstrosity of a dress, will you?” Sarah demanded, presenting her back to Jerra, then sighing as her friend began to unfasten the horrible thing. “I don’t know. He closed the mirror portal so I couldn’t talk to my friends. So he must have found out about it and done it out of spite.”

“Are you sure?” Jerra asked, tugging at the tight silken cords at the back of the dress. “I mean, there might have been other reasons for closing the portal. Maybe it was done accidentally?”

“No, I’m sure it was just him being an ass. Come on! You’ve seen him. You know what sort of a bully he can be. He just couldn’t take the fact that I beat him and destroyed his city,” Sarah grumbled, jerking the diaphanous dress from her body and tossing it into the furthest corner of the wardrobe before wrapping herself up in the cozy confines of the silken robe.

Jerra chuckled, “To be fair, the goblins destroy the city at least once a year on their own. From what I heard, you didn’t do that much damage to the city proper, just the training barracks for the young goblins.”

This news made Sarah pause, trying to grasp what her friend had said. “Wait… you mean the army I fought wasn’t the goblin army?”

Merry laughter echoed through the bower suite, as Jerra fell back on the bed holding her sides. “Oh Gods and Goddesses no! That was the young goblins. Basically, you destroyed the equivalent of a primary school class of goblin soldiers.”

“They were _children_?!?!” Sarah gasped, horror written across her face.

“Well, no. Not children,” Jerra replied, sitting up and wiping her eyes, careful not to smudge her make-up. “The goblins in the training barracks will never be part of the proper Goblin Army because they are too small and scrawny. So, instead of drumming them out of the military, the Goblin King keeps a separate army, in name only, and lets them defend the city against any runner that gets that far. It keeps them happy and lets them feel useful.”

Sarah felt as if her brain would melt as she tried to reconcile the fearsome, bullying, arrogant Goblin King she knew, with the generous and compassionate Goblin King, that Jerra was describing. “He…he keeps them on even though he knows they won’t actually be able to stop the runner?”

Shrugging Jerra nodded. “Sure, why wouldn’t he? At that point the goal is to delay the runner as long as possible and the while the goblins are inept as soldiers, they are very good at getting in a runner’s way.”

A slight popping sound by the wardrobe heralded Cheryse’s return, a bundle of burgundy and deep green material draped over her arms. Seeing Sarah, the sprite grinned. “Madame Vange was very surprised by the request. She hasn’t dressed a proper Goblyn noblewoman in nigh on a century!” Cheryse chirped, trotting toward the bed and laying out the material. “Your request actually made her _cry_!”

“What? Oh…I didn’t meant to be a burden,” Sarah gasped, her hands twisting in her lap.

“No…no. She was _happy_. Seems she had a dream about a month ago, in which she was designing clothing for a Goblyn noblewoman. The staff at her shop thought she’d gone ‘odd’ over it, so she hid the dresses away, thinking no one would ever see them,” Cheryse said, spreading out the material then standing back with a grin. “She says if you like this one, she’ll send the rest of her creations over tonight.”

Standing up, Sarah shrugged out of the dressing gown and smiled, “Well then, let’s get this dress on and see how it looks.”

Ten minutes later, Sarah stood in front of the mirror unable to believe her eyes, and judging from the stunned looks of Jerra and Cheryse, they were surprised as well. In some ways, the Goblyn dress was more revealing than the Avalon Court gown, yet somehow it seemed more demure at the same time.

“By the Gods and Goddeses,” murmured Cheryse in awe, her blue eyes peeking around Sarah’s hip in the mirror. “You look just like Goblyn royal!

Sarah stood tall and surveyed herself in the mirror, struggling to reconcile the ethereal woman she saw, with herself. The under-gown was a deep russet color, shot-through with hints of burnt orange and ruby threads, making it seem to glow when the light hit it just so. Over that was a gown of shimmering green silk, which shifted from dark green to startling emerald with each movement. Sitting just off her shoulders, the bodice of the overdress was revealing, cut quite low across her bust, while not being in any way ‘indecent’. The green silk was fitted tightly to her frame, with golden cords lacing up the back and two more sets of laces angled from under her arms around her sides to the inside of her hips.  Flowing from the waist of the dress was a cascade of green silk that fell to the floor in graceful swoops of fabric. Unlike the other dress, the skirt of the green gown was split into six panels slit to her hips, allowing the beautiful shades of russet, burnt orange and ruby red to show through. Each panel was embroidered with golden vines, enhanced with tiny ruby colored beads set in the shape of poppies. A leather corset in an antique gold completed the ensemble. Thin straps embossed with flowers curved over her shoulders, accentuating the creamy flesh of her bust. More embossed vines twisted around the corset, seeming to draw attention to the gentle curve from her hips to bust. Along the bottom of the corset was a four-par,t panel skirt of golden threads that Sarah was quite sure were spun from _real_ gold.

“It’s…it’s gorgeous,” she murmured, startled at the way the green of the dress made her eyes seem to glow.

Sitting Sarah down, Cheryse grinned, her eyes shining with something akin to maniacal glee. “I know _just_ how to do your hair. Madame Vange showed me a portrait of the last Goblin Queen. I think I can recreate the look,” she said, tugging open the drawer of the vanity and pulling out a comb. “Those pompous peacocks who favor Avalon fashion will look like wilted flowers next to you, Lady Charlotte,” she declared and set to work.

“Wait…um… ouch…I don’t want …anyone to think I’m putting on airs by trying to look like a queen or anything,” protested Sarah, looking at Jerra for help, only to squeak at the sharp tug on her hair by Cheryse’s comb.

“Don’t look at me for help. I think you look fabulous and I can’t wait to see the look on people’s faces when you walk into the feast,” Jerra laughed mischievously. “Especially the Goblin King.”

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Jareth was torn.

On the one hand he enjoyed the fire festivals, from the feast that heralded the start of the festival days, until the final court that saw the end of the festival. On the other hand, he detested the stuffiness of the festival at court. Stifling a sigh, Jareth forced a smile  and continued to greet the guests of the court as they were announced for the castle feast. Lord so-and-so… Princess muckety-muck… His Honor the Duke of nothing-worth-caring-about. On and on it seemed to go, when what Jareth really wanted was to be down in the city with his people. Or better still, off in one of the smaller villages enjoying the communal feast with the villagers. The festivals were there to honor the land and those who work it, not for strutting about like peacocks like the nobility liked to do.

All around him were ladies dressed in diaphanous gowns patterned after the latest fashion from Avalon. Thin and revealing, the dresses played up the inherent sexuality of the High Fae, a quality imitated by the nobility of his court, much to the Goblin King’s irritation. For years he had worked to instill the members of his court with more pride in the traditional dress of the Goblyn people – and failed. The only members of his court who kept to the traditional dress were those few who were of the true Goblyn race, the rest viewed Goblyn dress as too ‘rough’ and ‘common’, preferring to continue to attempt to imitate the fashion of Avalon.

Although born High Fae, as part of his kingmaking rite, the Goblin King was imbued with traits of all the key racial regions of his kingdom – Troll, Dwarves, Pixies, Elves, Dragonkin, Shapeshifters, Lucan and of course, Goblyn. Of all the racial traits he now felt within his being, it was his Gobyn side he felt most keenly.

Jareth growled inwardly, fighting the urge to wrinkle his face in disgust as yet another fluttering female a gossamer gown of Avalon style came simpering up to him. Simpering waifish females were not what he wanted. Not what he needed. He assumed it was the Goblyn in him that demanded a woman with more strength and fire. Someone clearly worthy of sharing his throne.

And after years of being introduced to every eligible female in the Underground, he knew without a doubt that his queen would not turn up in whatever floaty frock that was popular in Avalon at the time.

“Lady Charlotte of the Above and Lady Jerra Evensong of Glynisfyre,” announced the herald.

Glad of a distraction from the silly woman currently fluttering her eyelashes in a way she thought was appealing and only made her look like she had something stuck in her eye, Jareth glanced toward the floral arch leading into his private gardens – and felt his heart stutter in his chest.

In that instant, he was sure he was seeing what Sarah would look like as queen. Charlotte walked into the garden with her head held high, her green eyes shining brightly beneath ebony plaits that wound around her head in a style seen often in the Goblyn Court days of old. But it was her dress that made the Goblin King’s blood burn through him with a desire he had not ever felt. If he didn’t know that she was a High Fae changeling, he would swear she had Goblyn blood in her veins. The traditional formal dress of Goblyn nobility seemed to be made for her.

Ignoring the bland woman before him, who was starting slack-jawed at Charlotte, the Goblin King stood and swept past her, the leather of his asymmetrically styled Goblyn jacket creaking with each step.

“Lady Charlotte,” he purred, smiling warmly at her and extending his hand. “I see you have made yourself…at _home_.”

The lady blushed, placing her hand on his. “Home? Well…the room is very nice, thank you, Your Majesty.”

With his eyes on hers, Jareth slowly lifted her hand to his lips, letting them lightly brush the back of her knuckles. A ripple of pleasure shuddered through him at the simple touch, followed by a burst of desire so powerful, it took all his reserves of willpower to refrain from transporting her directly into his bed. _‘What in the Seven Veils of Seline was that?!’_ he wondered in shock at the sudden sensation of ‘want’ that engulfed him. Swallowing the urge to ravish her, Jareth smiled and purred, “I was referring to your clothing choice. You look born to wear traditional Goblyn court wear. Which is interesting, since I am quite sure I did not give instruction for such garments to be stocked in your wardrobe.”

The feel of Jareth’s lips on her hand sent a swift burst of heat traveling down Sarah’s spine to pool hotly in the pit of her stomach _. ‘If this is what a brief touch of his lips does, just imagine what actual sex would be like,’_ squealed her libido. _‘No! No! NO! There will be NO thinking about sex with the Goblin King. Bad. Bad Sarah!!’_ she screamed inwardly, while her inner-self attempted to subdue the now lust-addled libido. Then Sarah took a good look at what Jareth was wearing and felt the volcanic pool of need pulse within her.

The other males in the garden were clothed in silks, velvets and brocades, colored to compliment brightly colored gowns of the ladies on their arms. Glittering with jewels and fine gems, each outfit was obviously designed to be lavish and ostentatious. The Goblin King however, was not dressed like the others. His muscular legs were encased in deep brown leather, the color reminiscent of the burnt soil at the end of the summer harvest. Around his chest was a matching leather breast plate, embossed with twisted sheaves of wheat, linked in a shape that she knew was the Goblin King’s sigil – double horns curved around a triskellion. Under the breastplate she caught a glimpse of a cream colored silk, which was surprisingly free of foppish frills or lace; the only adornment being golden embroidery so fine it was hard to see unless the light hit it just right. But it was the jacket he was wearing over the ensemble that made her knees threaten to buckle for the second time that day. The moment she saw the jacket, she recognized it – with its the asymmetrical cut, sweeping collar and etched metal shoulder, it was the same jacket he wore when he cornered her in the tunnels under the Labyrinth.

 _‘Damn. The stupid Fae looks like sex on two legs,’_ she thought, while her libido melted into a sticky puddle of outright feral and unrelenting lust.  Lost in trying to squelch the raging lust that suffused her, Sarah  scolded herself, realizing that the Goblin King was apparently waiting for a response.

Lifting her chin slightly, Sarah gazed at him with hooded eyes, her expression cool but slightly amused. “Where I come from, we dress appropriate to the holiday being celebrated,” Sarah stated, her tone warm, yet underpinned with steel wit. “I’m afraid I am no prancing, pastel, peacock of a woman, Your Majesty. To attempt to wear such things would only make me look a fool and you more so for dressing me as such.”

Lowering her hand from his lips, but not releasing it, the Goblin King gave her an amused smirk, his pale eyes glinting merrily in the torchlight of the garden. “Indeed, Lady Charlotte, I see that you are definitely no one’s fool. Please, allow me to escort you to our table,” he replied with a regal dip of his head. Gently he shifted her hand so it rested atop his in the formal court posture, and started to lead her through the garden, much to the delight of the gossiping tongues who were already whispering hotly about the ridiculous changeling who was putting on airs and clearly had designs upon becoming Queen – or the King’s latest bed-warmer.

“ _Our_ table, Your Majesty?” Sarah asked, nibbling her lip and glancing quickly behind her to be sure that Jerra was coming too. Jerra’s purple eyes caught hers and gave her an encouraging, albeit cheeky grin as she followed the King and Sarah toward the front of the garden.

The Goblin King chuckled softly, the sound a pleasant purr deep within his chest. “Yes, ‘our’ table. As my guest, you shall dine with myself and my parents.”

Sarah gasped, her emerald eyes widening in dismay at the sight of the High King and Queen seated to the right of the Goblin King’s throne. “Oh…but surely there as others more important than I, m’Lord. I would hate to cause offense to someone more worthy than myself and my business partner.”

“While I am sure there will be some nobles within my court and other guests who might feel slighted at not being invited to join the royal table, I am King and it is my choice to have _my_ new business partners dine with me this evening,” countered the Goblin King, pausing at the chairs to the left of his own. “Please, be seated, Lady Charlotte.”

Unable to think of a way to deny the Goblin King’s request, since to do so would undoubtably cause a scene, Sarah sat as gracefully as she could in the chair held out for her by a petite hobgoblin woman.

“Your business partners, m’Lord?” asked Jerra, gingerly sitting in the ornate chair that was being held for her by another footman.

The Goblin King nodded and picked up his goblet, giving the two young women a mysterious smirk. “But of course. Once our negotiations are complete Sunday afternoon, we shall be equal partners in your little ‘enterprise’,” he said, then turned to the gathered guests and raised his golden goblet. “May the turning of the year bring us good fortune, health and many blessings. Gealach fómhar sona!”

Sarah and Jerra raised their glasses as the others did, repeating the Goblin King’s blessing. Then when the King had sipped of his cup, they followed suit, all the while Sarah was frantically trying to think of a way to get through the negotiations that would _not_ result in her being locked in a partnership arrangement with the Goblin King. Licking her lips, Sarah was pleased to discover that the golden goblet in her own hand was filled with a light and delicious apple wine.

“I do hope you enjoy that. It is the last of the apple wine, made last year from fruit grown in my private orchard,” the Goblin King said as he settled into his throne and the servers began to carry large serving platters through the garden toward the high table.

Choking on her second sip of the wine, and coughed violently, earning her a concerned frown from the Goblin King. Sarah looked at Jerra who was clearly as panicked as herself.

“Whatever is the matter, Lady Charlotte?” he asked. “If you do not like the wine we can call for something else.”

“No…but…I was told that fruit from your private orchard would bind me to the kingdom,” she gasped, putting the goblet down on the table with a heavy thump and nudging it away from her, her green eyes staring at it in horror.

A strange cold feeling cut through the desire that had encompassed him since Lady Charlotte entered the garden – and Jareth didn’t like it. For a reason he could not fathom, he seemed to be feeling her distress and it was causing him pain. Gently he reached out, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly in his gloved fingers. “My lady, believe me when I say, no food or drink you shall partake of during your time here for the festival, shall bind you to my kingdom against your will. On that I give you my word. ”

Seeing her seem to relax a bit, he chuckled and murmured softly so that only she could hear, “Of course, you wear the Goblyn clothing like you were born to it, so it _would_ be worth it to bind you here, just to see someone wear it so well.”

Sarah felt her cheeks flush with heat at his words, then tamped the feeling down. Two could play this game. Fixing him with a coquettish smile, Sarah purred, “While the clothing suits me well-enough, it would take more than a simple wardrobe change to entice me to change my world and my loyalties to you, Your Majesty. And since I have no designs on gaining myself a throne, I’m afraid you have nothing here that would cause me to pledge my oath to your kingdom…or its King.”

“Bold words, my dear,” chuckled the Goblin King, picking up his fork. “Care to make a little wager on that?”

Picking up her own fork, Sarah waited until the Goblin King had placed a bite upon his tongue before spearing one of the succulent shrimp on her plate. “A wager? Why Your Majesty, I would not have guessed you were a betting man…” she replied with a teasing purr. Deep inside Sarah’s mind, a red light began to flash frantically, accompanied by a warning claxon. _‘Warning! Warning! DO NOT make wagers with the Fae! Hello?!?! Have you forgotten **everything** you’ve learned and all that Jerra has told you?!?!’_

“Indeed… a wager. I believe that I could find something strong enough to entice you to want to join my kingdom,” the Goblin King said, his usually pale eyes darkening to deep navy as he regarded the brunette on his left. As she peered at him around her goblet, for a brief instant he could have sworn he saw Sarah sitting there, her green eyes taunting him. The teasing banter seemed to be just the sort of thing that Sarah might do, and the type of interaction he had always longed to enjoy with her.

 _‘She is not my Sarah!’_ he shouted inside, a part of him raging at the way his thoughts always turned to the blasted girl, even when he was clearly being flirted with by a lovely woman who seemed to enjoy his attentions.

“That is only half a wager, m’Lord,” Sarah said, giving the Goblin King a sly smirk and pulling him from his inner struggle. “I’m no fool…you’ve said so yourself. Therefore, I’m afraid I must decline. I know better than to make wagers with the Fae, particularly one so full of loopholes as that one. Thank you all the same, Your Majesty.”

The way the woman teased him made Jareth’s blood buzz inside his veins, the incredible desire for her flaring to life once more. _‘Blast it all! I haven’t felt this level of demanding need since I was but a teen, still spilling myself over glimpses of a bare nyaad breasts,’_ he thought irritably. Thanking the Gods for floor-length tablecloths, Jareth smiled at the charming creature seated next to him, while surreptitiously adjusting the hard length that now pressed insistently against his inner thigh, as if trying desperately to lift the table on its own. “I bet that within the course of a year, I could find something about my kingdom that would make entice you to grant me your oath of allegiance and join us as a Goblyn citizen.”

Sarah paused, finding herself considering his wager, and earning herself a sharp kick to the shin from Jerra. Turning toward her friend she was greeted with deep purple eyes narrowed sternly at her. “Are you crazy?” the pixie hissed under her breath. “You do _not_ make wagers with the Fae! Think…of…your… _brother_ ,” she demanded, grinding her foot into Sarah’s toes so hard she flinched.

“Yes, well, it is an interesting offer, Your Majesty, but in truth I could not forswear my allegiance to the Above, as I have family that I love more than life itself. I would not leave them,” she replied, smiling quietly at the King.

The warmth of desire cooled a fraction at her words, as the Goblin King found himself nodding. “I admire your loyalty to your family, although you are clearly a changeling and should have been of this world from the start. I hope to one day find one who would be that loyal in love to me, and I to them in return.”

Seeing the naked emotion shining in the Goblin King’s eyes, Sarah ducked her head slightly, turning her attention to her plate. _‘Did the Goblin King really just open up to me like that?!’_ she wondered.

“I apologize for speaking so boldly, Lady Charlotte. I’m afraid that is the Labyrinth speaking. She has a tendency to force herself into my head and heart during the major fire festivals,” he said with a laugh and a shrug.

Puzzled she peered at him. “She? The Labyrinth is female?”

“Yes and no. I speak of her as female because she feels that way to me. Previous rulers have felt the land as male. It speaks to each of us differently,” he replied thoughtfully. Seeing the curiosity in her eyes, he smiled. “Close your eyes and see how the land speaks to you.”

“I couldn’t, Your Majesty,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “I’m just a simple hedge witch. I work with herbs and stones. Energy work has never come easy to me.”

Rising, the Goblin King took her hand. “You can. Come with me.”

Without thinking about it, Sarah found herself taking his hand and letting herself be led through the garden, oblivious to the envious whispers and dark looks she was getting. Slipping through the floral arch, Sarah walked with the Goblin King along a moonlit path leading deeper into the King’s garden. Stopping in front of a wooden door without a handle, the Goblin King took off his glove and laid his hand flat on the wood. Slowly lines of glowing gold began to flow over the surface of the door, before it silently opened.

Replacing his glove, Jareth turned, offering her his hand once more. He was surprised when she hesitated and stepped back.

“I…this is not my place, Your Majesty. I..I’m just a changeling. A simple hedgewitch in the Above,” she said, venturing back another step, only to be stopped by the gentle pressure of the Goblin King taking her hand.

“Nothing…and no one are as they seem in this place. Even you, my dear,” Jareth murmured, feeling his blood sing once more at the feel of her hand in his. Something about her was drawing him in and the Labyrinth was clearly encouraging it. “Come inside… see for yourself if you are truly as you seem to be. Perhaps, in this place…in the Labyrinth….you could be so much more than you are.”

 _‘Danger! Danger! FLEE! Ohfortheloveofallthat’sholyrunaway!!’_ screamed her mind, while Sarah looked from the Goblin King to the door behind him. Through the door she could see another garden and smelled roses and fruit.

“What is that place?” she asked, still resisting the gentle pressure upon her hand that sought to draw her forward through the door.

“My private orchard and garden.”

Gasping Sarah shook her head and tried to free her hand.

“Charlotte…you have my word. Remember?” he asked softly, her hand still tucked gently but firmly in his gloved hand. “You will not be bound to this land, or myself against your will.”

Sarah bit her lower lip and looked once more into the garden, a deep itch under her skin begging her to walk in. Finally she gave the Goblin King a steely look, her eyes snapping with emerald fire as she spoke. “Give me your oath that you will not bind me without my knowing consent, Goblin King,” she demanded.

Seeing the ferocity shimmering in her eyes and stance, Jareth’s body responded in kind – like meeting like in a battle of wills. The Goblin King gave a curt nod of his head, his other hand held over his heart. “You have my word and my oath. I will not bind you without your knowing consent.”

With his oath still hanging in the air, Sarah took a deep breath and stepped forward through the glowing door into the secret garden. Jareth smiled, squeezing her hand. “There, this isn’t so terrible…is it?”

Sarah looked around at the moonlit rose bushes and trees scattered through the private garden. The air was heavy with the scent of roses, fruit and exotic spices. In the center was a fountain, topped by a large crystal which reflected the moon, effectively lighting the garden with gentle light. No longer hesitating, she allowed the Goblin King to lead her to a secluded nook beneath a willow tree, covered in pale pink flowers.

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing toward the ground at the foot of the willow tree. While her mind fought to object, she found her body gracefully dropping onto the ground. Jareth settled next to her. “Now… I promise I will not harm you, Lady Charlotte. I’m asking you to trust me.”

Frowning slightly, Sarah looked at him but saw no malice or trickery in his eyes. “I…don’t understand what you want me to do.”

“Just close your eyes. Trust me…and do as I say,” he murmured softly.

 _‘Fear me…love me…do as I say,’_ whispered his mind, parroting his fateful words back to him. ‘ _She is not Sarah! Leave me be!’_ he howled inwardly.

“This is silly, I won’t be able to ‘feel’ the Labyrinth. I’m not a King or royalty or anything,” Sarah argued, but shut her eyes anyway.

When her eyes were fully shut, Jareth pulled his right glove off, surprised to see that the triskellion upon that palm was glowing a deep red and pulsing with each beat of his heart, while the other lines upon his body were still glowing a golden amber. Still puzzled by the change in his palm, he took her hand in his, twining her fingers in his and using his own to splay her palm against the soil at the base of the ancient willow. “Breathe in slowly and let the scent of the garden fill you,” he instructed her, feeling his heart soar oddly when she obeyed, her breath quiet and even as she filled her lungs. “When you breath out, push the air from your lungs and push your energy down through your palm into the ground,” he murmured, his lips now near her ear, the scent of her skin teasing him until his blood began to itch within him once more, demanding to feel her body melding with his in the ancient dance. “Now breathe in again. As you draw in air, feel your body opening to the land below you. Feel the essence of the land flowing up into your hand, then travelling up your arm until it flows through your every fiber. Open your heart and your mind to the land. Let it speak to you, Charlotte,” he whispered, entranced by the quiet breathing of the lovely changeling.

Sarah fought down the urge to tell him this was ridiculous, that she just dabbled with herbs and stones, she sucked at channeling energy. Sure she’d tried it before, but nothing ever happened. Sighing, she resigned herself to go through with this charade, then she felt it – a slight tickle at the palm of her hand.

 _‘It’s probably just a bug,’_ she thought.

As she continued to match Jareth’s slow breathing, she pictured the warmth of the land seeping up her arm, until she realized she was actually feeling it and gasped.

“There…that’s it,” the Goblin King murmured. “Let it fill you and speak to you. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe and grounded here. You’re safe to let your mind fly.”

And fly it did. One minute she was sitting under the willow with Jareth, the next she was floating over the Labyrinth and it was speaking to her. At first she didn’t hear words, she just felt an incredible joy washing over her and supporting her like a warm ocean, bathing her mind and soul with peace and happiness. Then slowly she began to hear a voice, soft and gentle like a mother speaking to a babe in arms.

“I know you, little one. My King knows not of your identity, but you can’t fool me, child. I see inside your heart and know the true you.”

 “Please…don’t tell him.”

“I will speak no word to him of your true name. Yet you cannot hide from me forever. Come home, child.”

“This is not my home, my home is Above…with my family.”

“Ask why your heart feels cold Above and beats with the heat of a thousand suns since you have returned. Listen to me, child…I know what you need…what you crave…what will make your soul complete. All is found here….”

The words ended, but the images flew fast and thick through her mind. She saw herself digging in the fields with workers, singing what she knew to be ancient songs, praising the land and the Gods for blessing the workers and their crops. She saw herself spinning wildly around a bonfire, singing and dancing as the pounding drums beat out the rhythm. She saw herself naked upon a bed of newly harvested wheat. The Sarah in the image looked up and opened her arms, welcoming the man she saw -- Jareth dressed in black leggings, his chest bare with strange glowing lines inked into his skin, a stags horns resting upon his head, secured by a wreath of green.

Panting, Sarah jerked, her eyes flying open as she rolled away from the base of the tree and onto her knees.

“So the Labyrinth did speak to you?” questioned the Goblin King, watching her warily.

“I…I have to get out of here,” Sarah gasped, scrambling to her feet and rushing for the door to the secret garden.

“No..wait…Charlotte, please,” he called out, following her. “Tell me what happened?!”

“Out…I need out...” she cried, pounding on the door with her fist. “Let me out!”

Warm arms wrapped around her, pulling her away from the door against a firm chest. “Shh…shhh…it’s all right. You’re safe. The Labyrinth likes to show off, Charlotte. Whatever you saw, it can’t be that bad,” Jareth murmured, trying to soothe the distraught woman in his arms.

At first Sarah’s mind screamed at her to fight the warm embrace, but his chest felt so comforting and solid, that she finally relaxed into his arms. Slowly her breathing calmed, helped along by the steady beating of Jareth’s heart against her ear. Eventually she straightened up, pulling herself from his arms, while her libido shrieked its outrage.

“Forgive my, m’Lord. I think today has been far more stressful than I had thought,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes. “I think I should retire and rest before the festivities tomorrow. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Having the dark-haired changeling in his arms felt so comfortable and right, that Jareth was momentarily lost in his own head, wondering why after so long, he should feel such a connection to a woman he had only laid eyes on for less than a day. Feeling her pull away made his inner-self howl indignantly, demanding that he pull her back into his arms. Yet, seeing the lost look in her eyes and the sadness pouring off her as she looked at the door, he chose not to pull her back to him. Gently he pushed a dark tendril back from her cheek, his gloved fingertips tenderly caressing along her jaw, before he turned her to face him. With light, but insistent pressure he tilted her face up, forcing her to look at him. The fear and hesitance in her verdant eyes tearing at something inside him that howled for the blood of whatever caused her such pain.

“I do not know what the Labyrinth said to you, my dear…but I assure you, I will let no harm come to you in my kingdom,” he said, then dipped his head and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.

Given the way that every touch to her flesh had made his desire burn hotter, Jareth was awe-struck by the slow rolling wave of pure happiness that slid through his entire being at the feel of his lips upon hers. Within his chest he felt a sharp vibration, like a violin string being plucked forcefully. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he was falling in love with her. _‘It’s impossible. Sarah holds my love oath!’_ he mused, all the while Lady Charlotte’s lips returned his gentle caress.

As unprepared as she was for the Goblin King to kiss her, Sarah was even more surprised by the odd vibration that shivered through her chest, and the sudden warmth that engulfed her, leaving her feeling peaceful and safe. When he broke the kiss, she found herself gazing into eyes so dark they were nearly black, yet she was not afraid.

For the first time since she had met the Goblin King, Sarah had ceased to be afraid of him.

Seeing the quiet smile upon her face, the Goblin King lightly kissed her forehead, then took her hand, placing it upon his in the formal style. “Come, I will return you to the party. I’m afraid tongues will be wagging badly enough over the fact that we have disappeared for so long.”

“Couldn’t you…what…reorder time and make them forget that it happened?” she asked, letting him lead her along as if nothing had just happened between them.

The Goblin King chuckled and shook his head, “If only it were that simple. Alas, that would require more power than even I control, as I would have to adjust time for the whole of the Underground.”

“But, you do that for the Aboveground when you have a runner?”

“Yes, but it is far easier. Most of them don’t believe in magic, so they don’t feel the shift. Here, no one believes in magic – we _are_ magic,” he explained, pausing before the floral arch leading back into the garden. “I’m afraid that there may be some terrible things said about you in coming days, Lady Charlotte. For that I blame myself. It was reckless of me to spirit you away, but I thank you for humoring me. Now, I will let you reenter the party on your own, as I must check on the festival celebrations in the City.”

Frowning Sarah peeked into the King’s garden and sighed, seeing Jerra talking to Alesander and his wife, while the foppish peacocks of the court paraded around. “To be perfectly honest, I think I’d rather go to bed or go into the city myself. No offense, but the court ‘party’ is really not my style.”

The Goblin King chuckled and regarded the woman quietly a moment. “I’ll make you a deal…” he said.

“Oh please, not another one of _your_ deals, m’Lord,” Sarah laughed. “How many times must I remind you that I will not make deals with the Devil..um….or Fae.”

Shaking his head, Jareth eyed the winsome beauty and grinned. “This one is simple…no harm. No foul. You have my word on that.”

“Fine. Let’s hear it and _then_ I’ll tell you whether I’ll agree to it,” she replied, feeling heat rising to her cheeks once more. It was so odd to see the Goblin King not only smiling at her, but flirting.

“I know a lovely pub in the Goblin City that I think you would enjoy. Tell me whether the Labyrinth spoke to you as a male or female, and I’ll take you with me to enjoy the evening festivities,” he said.

Mulling the offer over in her mind, Sarah could find no way in which she was being tricked. The offer was straight forward and remarkably simple. “The gossips will _definitely_ talk trash if you spirit the two of us out of here,” she said, peeking back into the garden and cringing at the thought of going back in there.

“I’m a big boy… I can handle it. Besides, you should hear some of the things they’ve been saying about me for years,” he laughed.

Sarah took one last look into the garden, then nodded. “You’re on. The Labyrinth spoke to me as a woman.”

The Goblin King grinned and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to his side with a laugh. “Hah…I suspected as much.”

“Now, for another deal…what do I have to do to get you to tell me some of the terrible things the gossips say about you?” she teased, feeling his hand wrap around her hip to pull her just that bit closer. She felt him lean closer, his lips near her ear as the world seemed to fold in around her.

“Oh…I’m sure I can come up with a suitable payment for those juicy tidbits, m’Lady,” he purred in her ear, just as the world fell away beneath them, leaving her clinging to his chest, drinking in the uniquely exotic scent that was all his own. “But I’d be more interested in hearing what you _want_ to offer.”

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**_Please leave a contribution in the little box...it keeps the Goblin King from throwing me in the dungeon. :)_ **


	6. Playing Games

**Ch. 6 The Royal Pub Crawl**

For a century now, Jareth had celebrated the festivals of the land with his people. As King, it was his sacred duty to lead the festivals, yet as much as he felt the land beating within him during these times, he also felt called to join his people in the cities and towns for their evening festivities. There was something primal and freeing in doing so. For their part, his subjects accepted him freely when he chose to join them, treating him with respect, but treating him not as ‘King’ but as one of them – a Goblyn.

Given what he knew of her hedgewitch status, Jareth suspected that Charlotte would have experienced the Aboveground versions of the fire festivals; but he knew that they paled to the way his subjects celebrated. The sensation of her clinging to him as the mists enclosed them, he smiled. _‘Requiring her to stay for the length of the festival gives me more time,’_ he thought, feeling the thrum of heat sliding through his blood once more at the strange thought. _‘More time? Where did that come from?’_ he wondered in the next instant, even as his arm tightened around the woman currently held tight to his chest.

The mists eased a bit, slowly unwinding from around them, until the world revealed itself, leaving them standing in an alley way near the city center of the Goblin City. Feeling Charlotte shiver against his chest, giving a faint moan, Jareth glanced down.

 “Take slow breaths. It helps with the disorienting effects,” the Goblin King murmured gently, his hand gently caressing her back as Charlotte settled and finally relaxed.

“Whew…yeah…what a way to travel,” she chuckled, stepping back from him a bit and smiling at him, her green eyes glowing faintly in the dim moonlight. “But I can see why you like it. It’s quick.”

Smirking, Jareth nodded and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his gloved fingers barely touching her neck, but obviously enough to make her tremble. “It has its uses.” He took her hand in his, tucking it in the crook of his arm, “Come, a drink will settle you further.”

“Oh…wait!” she gasped, stopping and shaking her head. “Jerra won’t know where I am. I don’t want her to be worried that you’ve thrown me in a dungeon or something.”

The Goblin King’s eyes glinted darkly as he leaned toward her, his lips barely touching her cheek a soft growl teasing against her ear, “And what’s to say you wouldn’t enjoy being in my dungeon, hmmm?”

Sarah felt her cheeks burn hot enough she was sure they were glowing. Within her, her libido gave a decidedly piggish squeal and fainted at the mere possibility of just what the Goblin King was referring to. In contrast, her inner-self steeled a bit, giving a sultry purr of its own. _‘So_ **_that’s_** _the game he wants to play. Let the games begin!’_ she thought.

Turning her head so that her lips were a hairsbreadth from his, Sarah felt a low purring laugh rumble echo in her throat, “Oh Your Majesty, I never said that I _wouldn’t_ enjoy such an… adventure,” she purred softly under hooded eyelids. “But it would never do to worry Jerra and let her think you would hurt me…without my _consent_.”

Jareth felt his heart race and his desire burn at the brunette’s words. He was no novice when it came to the pleasures of the flesh and how to seduce women into his bed. Flirting was second nature in many ways. Fae women of rank would never dare tease him back. For all of the inherent sensuality of his race, the women were raised to pretend to be virtuous and untried, even when they had been bedding half the males of the court. However Goblyn women were different, they would meet his teasing, taunt for taunt, or even initiate such intimate flirting. Seeing the darkening of her emerald eyes as she purred such words to him, Jareth once more felt the disquieting and unexpected surety that this woman was more than she seemed – she dressed willingly like a Goblyn courtier and she even acted like a Goblyn woman would.

Whether she realized it or not, she _was_ Goblyn. He was sure of it.

“I assure you, my dear…if you consented to such an adventure, you would find nothing but pleasure at my hands,” he purred in reply, then leaned back, enjoying the way her cheeks flushed. She might be bold and return his taunts like a Goblyn woman would, but she was still delightfully flustered by the exchange – which was an alluring combination. Turning his wrist, a shimmering crystal glowed in his hand. “Alesander…attend,” he said, his tone changing subtly, becoming authoritative and brusque.

Sarah nibbled her lip as she watched Alesander’s image appear within the crystal, relieved to see Jerra sitting next to him.

“Yes, Sire?”

“Dismiss the court at your leisure. I have gone to fulfill my duties in other parts of the kingdom.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Alesander, turning his head to look at Jerra as she spoke quietly to him. “Um…Your Majesty, there is some question as to the whereabouts of Lady Charlotte. She has not been seen since you left with her and Lady Jerra is concerned for her.”

Leaning toward the crystal, Sarah looked at the Goblin King, “Can they hear me?”

“They can now,” he chuckled, watching her with amusement.

“I’m here, Jerra. And I’m fine,” she said, biting back a laugh at the shocked look from Alesander’s wife. To his credit, Alesander didn’t seem the slightest bit phased by the news, while Jerra smirked knowingly.

Spinning the crystal back toward himself, the Goblin King smiled. “Indeed, Lady Charlotte is in my company. She found the courtiers festival feast to be rather dull, so I offered to bring her along on my rounds through the kingdom this evening. I will see that she is returned safely to her rooms when the royal progression is completed.”

Jerra gave Sarah a filthy grin through the crystal and waved her hand dismissively, “No hurry. In fact, keep her out all night if you want. Heaven knows she needs a good….”

“Jerra!” hissed Sarah, glaring at her friend through the crystal, while the Goblin King gave her a wicked grin. In the next instant the image in the crystal seemed to bob in a way that gave Sarah a disorienting wave of vertigo, as Alesander apparently carried the crystal away from his wife and Jerra.

“Sire… are you really taking the Lady Charlotte with you for your…. ‘rounds’,” Alesander asked in hushed tones. “You are aware, of course, that such a thing is most inappropriate for a Fae woman. She may be a changeling, but she is clearly High Fae in lineage.”

Eyeing the woman next to him who was eyeing him with suspicion, the Goblin King chuckled, “She may look High Fae, but I assure you, she is Goblyn through and through. She’ll handle the ‘royal progression’ better than you would, my friend. Of that I am sure.”

Resigned, Alesander nodded. “If you are sure, Sire. But it is most irregular. The court will talk.”

The Goblin King shrugged and winked at Charlotte, as she pursed her lips and glared questioningly at him. “Let them. It will give them something useful to do for a change,” he laughed, then returned his attention to the crystal. “Oh…and before you rest for the day, find out from Cheryse where she obtained the Goblyn dress for Lady Charlotte. I want you to ensure that a full wardrobe of Goblyn wear is provided for her…should she wish to use it.”

“As you wish, Sire,” Alesander replied, his image fading from the crystal just before it popped.

“Now then, about that drink,” Jareth chuckled, tucking his companion’s hand back in the crook of his arm and leading her from the alleyway, quietly amused by the suspicious look on her face.

Sarah arched an eyebrow and studied his expression. There was something she wasn’t being told. She was sure of it. “Come on…out with it, Your Majesty. Just what is so ‘inappropriate’ about your royal duties tonight that would make it unsuitable for a proper woman to accompany you? What do you do? Visit strip clubs or something? Dress in drag and dance the hula?”

The purring tenor of the Goblin King’s laugh slid down her spine like liquid velvet to pool wetly between her thighs, leaving her biting back a wanton moan at the sound.

“Gods and Goddesses forbid!” he groaned with laughter, shaking his head and shutting his eyes as if to rid himself of an unwanted mental image. “The last thing I want to see is a dwarven stripper. And you…you’d be scared for life from that!” Looking down at her, his pale eyes glinted wickedly as he purred, “Of course if _you_ wanted to divest yourself of your clothing in such a manner, I might change my mind about the idea of a strip show.”

Fighting the rising heat in her cheeks, Sarah tossed her head and gave him a nudge with her shoulder. “I’m sure that one such as you would have a host of willing volunteers to wriggle naked for your _pleasure_.”

“True. I do have that effect on women,” he laughed, enjoying the flush in her cheeks combined with the flash of righteous indignation in her green eyes. “Tell me, pet…do I have that effect upon you.”

Sarah pulled her hand from his and stepped from the alley into the city market area, bustling with stalls and revelers. Laughing, Jareth reached out and grabbed her shoulder, tugging her back into the shadows of the alley.

“Síocháin, Lady Charlotte,” he murmured softly, his gloved fingers gently curling under her chin and tilting her face toward him.

“I don’t speak…whatever that is,” Sarah huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. _‘Damn him. He’s an ass….’_ She grumbled to herself, then sighed inwardly. _‘So why do I want him to kiss me again.’_

“It means Pax…Peace, my dear,” he answered, his thumb gently stroking her chin as he looked at her.

Ignoring the feeling of his caress, Sarah swallowed the heavy lump in her throat. “Okay…so we’ve established that your ‘royal progression’ doesn’t involve strippers. Do you dress in drag and dance the hula or something?” Surprisingly, her terse words were greeted with an amused rumbling chuckle from the Goblin King, right before his lips brushed her forehead, sending a jolt of pleasure racing down her spine.

“Would it please you to see me like that, my dear?”

For a split second Sarah actually considered it, her mind supplying an image of Jareth dressed in the fluffy meringue dress from her peach-dream. The overall effect was so ridiculous she started to snicker, before dissolving in a riot of giggles. “Oh…Gods…You’d…look…ridiculous…” she gasped, holding her sides and staggering against the wall while she giggled.

Bemused, the Goblin King pinned her against the wall, with one hand on either side of her shoulders. “Hmm… I like it when you laugh like that, although I’d love to know what mental image set you off in such a gale of giggles, my dear,” he chuckled, tilting his head owlishly while watching her giggle.

“No drag,” she said, looking up at him, her face flushed with the laughter and her eyes glowing brightly. “Swear to me that I will never have to see you in drag. I don’t think I could handle it,” she giggled again, until she had to wipe tears from her eyes at the mere thought. Her libido, helpfully supplied another image of Jareth dressed head to toe in black, with his eyes ringed with heavy black eyeliner. The visual was striking and made Sarah’s core give a lusty throb. A quiet moan slipped past her parted lips as her knees wobbled from the mere thought of him dressed like that.

Hearing what could only be classed as a desirous moan, Jareth’s lips curled in a lascivious smirk. “Do tell, Lady Charlotte, just what thought elicited that decidedly delightful sound…and how do I get you to do it again?” he purred, his pale eyes shifting until they were deep navy.

“Um…no drag,” Sarah murmured, looking up at him with dark, hungry eyes of her own. “But, I wouldn’t object to a bit of guyliner. And…black…you…you’d look good in all black.”

Surprised, but pleased with her admission, the Goblin King briefly inclined his head, “I shall take that under advisement.”

Blinking dumbly at him, Sarah realized he still hadn’t answered her question. “Bloody Hell… you’ve gotten me distracted again and still haven’t answered the question,” she grumbled, shaking her head and ducking under his arms. Still muttering to herself, she stepped out of the alley way and back into the market district.

The Goblin King laughed softly and followed, until he was again walking beside her down through the market stalls. All around them merchants and customers haggled over prices in the busy market district. The air was thick with the scent of spices and foods for sale. No one seemed to notice that the King had arrived, and for his part, the Goblin King was hardly aware of anyone or anything but Lady Charlotte. He didn’t understand why, but this woman affected him in a way that no other woman had in a century or more. She delighted him, both verbally and physically, until he wanted nothing more than to hear her laugh and continue to inspire her to spar with him. ‘Preferably for the rest of my days,’ he thought, then immediately wondered where such a thought had come from. At 546 years of age, he had never felt such things for any woman, much less one he had just met less than 24 hours ago. Once more he felt the vibration throb in his chest, the ripples of the vibration rushing outward until he was sure he felt it in every fibre of his being.

“To answer your question, Lady Charlotte, the royal progression upon this night involves me visiting various establishments to enjoy the festival with my subjects,” he said, tucking her hand back into the crook of his arm and leading her down a side street away from the market.

“Establishments?” she asked, giving him a skeptical look. “What _kind_ of establishments?”

Pausing under a sign that read ‘The Crystal Sword’, the Goblin King smiled and pushed the door open for her. Inside she could hear singing and the clinking of glassware, accompanied by the unmistakable smell of beer.

“Pubs?” she asked, giving him an incredulous look. “You mean your ‘royal duties’ involve your own private pub crawl?!”

He laughed and tilted his head, “I go to pubs, yes. But I assure you I have never drunk so much that I have had to ‘crawl’ anywhere.”

“I don’t believe this… I exchanged a formal feast for a royal pub crawl,” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief, while the Goblin King pushed the door of the pub open wider.

 “Well, are you coming or not?”

Sarah rolled her eyes and pushed past him into the pub, her skirts swishing against her legs and brushing sensuously against his as she moved. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, although her libido was beside itself at the unprecedented opportunity to see the Goblin King drunk. “You do realize that you’re buying, as I have no coin of the realm.”

“We can fix that,” he grinned, following her into the crowded pub. “How are you at darts?”

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

As it turned out, she was quite good at darts. She was also accomplished at billiards, crystal quoits, goblin dice, nine-men’s morris, knucklebones and nyout.

Three hours and four pubs later, Jareth was seriously reconsidering his cleverness in inviting Lady Charlotte along on his ‘royal progression’. Within the first hour and four rounds of darts she had relieved him of his purse and two pints of ale. By the next pub, he was out of funds and was paying his bets in IOUs and alcohol, glad that his status as King meant that the two of them drank for free.  From there things were a bit blurry. At last count he was down 113 dariqs, 6 flagons of Goblin cider, 2 bottles of his private label apple wine, a golden sigil ring from his hand, and promise notes for a sapphire necklace and a Dwarven tiara. She had almost negotiated him into an IOU for a unicorn, until she decided that hiding that in the Above would be more trouble than she was willing to deal with.

He watched the enchanting vixen slam back another shot of Dragonkin Fire Whiskey and give him a tipsy grin, before coughing hard enough that she set a nearby goblin’s hat aflame. “Wow! Next game I want a bottle of this stuff to take home with me!”

“No,” the Goblin King replied, with a slight pout to his lips as he surveyed his cards. “When this hand is through I am outlawing this ‘Poker’ game and shall bog anyone who dares play it in my kingdom.”

“Quit yer bitching, Highness,” the green-eyed witch replied. “How many cards der ya want?”

Arching an eyebrow at her casual tone, Jareth felt his loins throb with the want of her. For hours now she had taunted him and teased him, meeting his every innuendo with one of her own. In short, it was the longest bout of verbal foreplay he had ever engaged in, and he was thoroughly enjoying it. Of course, he also desperately wanted to grab her and take her to his bed. He would quite happily forgo the rest of the festival activities just to have her writhing under him, with nothing between their bodies but air – and precious little of that.

“Three cards, witch,” he chuckled, enjoying the rosy flush to her cheeks from the alcohol. He was vaguely amazed that despite her clearly inebriated state, she was still beating him at this blasted game – and more amazed that he hadn’t stooped to cheating yet. Granted, she had made him swear an oath at the start of their so-called ‘pub crawl’ that he wouldn’t use magic to cheat – but she had neglected to set the penalty should he break the oath.

Fighting not to frown, he surveyed the cards in his hand once more, hoping in vain that his hand had improved since the last time he looked – it hadn’t. The Goblin King was quite sure that by the end of the current hand he would be shirtless; although he still didn’t understand why Charlotte suddenly decided that she literally wanted the shirt off his back.

“I’m King,” Jareth grumbled, ignoring the buxom barmaid who brushed wantonly against his arm as she refilled his shot glass. “I can send a goblin to the castle accountant to retrieve more dariqs and quinots. Why must you demand my shirt as payment?”

“It’s a nice shirt,” the green-eyed witch across the table replied, snatching the bottle of Fire Whiskey from the barmaid and refilling her own shot glass since the jealous blonde ignored hers in favor of flaunting herself at the Goblin King. Giving the elvish woman a grin as sharp as troll daggers, Sarah teased the toe of her shoe up the inside of the Goblin King’s calf clear to his knee, making him nearly drop his cards in surprise. “Besides, it would look far better on me than you, don’t you think? Or would you rather raise the bid with kisses, Your Majesty?”

“Of course it would look good but…Wait….We can do that?” Jareth asked, his eyes widening a bit in response to that idea, while his libido gave a feral Goblyn war-whoop and suggested upping the bid to include full nudity, a bottle of Rosin oil and a whole plate of Peach Pudding – forget the spoons, he planned to lick it from her flesh. “You mean I could have been stealing kisses this whole time?!”

Hooded emerald eyes bore into his, teasing and taunting him without a word. “Win this hand and you can keep your shirt _and_ claim a kiss…if you wish, m’Lord.”.

Frowning and giving Sarah a look that would curdle milk, the buxom blonde flounced off, unnoticed by Sarah and the Goblin King. The King watched Sarah, transfixed as she flicked the tip of her tongue along the front of her teeth in a way that he had quickly decided was one of the most seductive things he’d ever seen.

“I wish to _see_ you in my shirt _and_ claim a kiss,” he replied, teasing his own foot up under the hem of her dress to caress the inside of her calf. She rewarded him with a tipsy giggle, which made his pulse pound furiously once more. _‘She will be the death of me,’_ he thought, shaking his head to turn his focus back to the cards in his hand.

Sarah sucked on her lower lip as she considered this new bet, unaware of how she was affecting the Goblin King until she noticed his eyes glued to her lower lip and saw the pounding of his pulse at the base of his throat. ‘ _I bet he’s as hard as steel right now,’_ squealed her libido, urging her to run her foot up high enough to find out. For a split moment, Sarah seriously thought about doing just that, before shaking her own head to chase the thought away. “I suppose it is only fair, considering the wishes you grant, hmmm?”

Checking her own cards, Sarah nudged three cards across the table toward the Goblin King and took two for herself. Peering at her new cards, Sarah fought to keep from crowing. The ace of spades and ace of clubs. With four aces in her hand, the chance of him beating her without breaking his oath against cheating were infinitesimal. Only one other hand could beat it, and the best that he’d had the whole game was two kings. Carefully keeping her expression neutral, but amused, she looked at the Goblin King, verdant eyes narrowing in a challenge.

“I’ll see your bet and raise you – if you manage to win this hand, you’ll get to see me in that shirt and nothing else, while getting your kiss.”

The look on the Goblin King’s face at her wager was something Sarah knew she would never forget. His crystalline eyes flew wide, then darkened until they were nearly black, while his pulse thudded visibly in his throat. Next to his empty shot glass, his gloved hand slowly tightened, then loosened once more. _‘Damn…the man has some control,’_ she thought as she watched his breathing become heavier. He looked down at his cards, then up at her once more. For an instant she regretted her words, as the look in his eyes said quite clearly that she was only a moment away from being spirited away to his bed and ravished within an inch of her life.

“Bold words, Goblyn wench,” Jareth muttered, his voice low and rough now as he fought the lust that coursed through him with every beat of his heart. For the first time since the games had begun, he regretted giving her his oath that he wouldn’t cheat. “And if _you_ win, would you collect the same from me?” he purred, giving her a teasing smirk when she blushed hotly.

“Tempting though that might be, Goblin King, that is hardly the thing a proper Fae courtier would do,” she laughed, flicking her cards into a neat little pile, face-down in front of her.

“True, but a proper Fae courtier would not have raised the bet in such a manner that would open them up to being in the King’s presence, wearing nothing but his shirt.,” he growled softly. “But no matter, you are no Fae courtier, little witch. You are as Goblyn as I am. I’m sure of it.”

Eyeing him she clucked her tongue against her teeth, making his groin tighten further at the way her lips pursed in a perfect ‘O’ shape.

“Well, what would you like if you win, Goblyn witch,” he asked again, amused by the way she rolled her eyes and shrugged.

Sarah gazed pensively at the stack of IOUs beside her glass. She would win the hand, that was a given. But deciding what she wanted from him that was in line with what he had raised her, was daunting. Sure, her libido was demanding a naked Jareth in her bed and that was a lovely picture – but she wasn’t stupid. That way lay disaster. She was sure of it. Still considering her options she nibbled her lip. Throughout their game she’d been unable to read him, not like it mattered since he consistently lost. She almost thought he was throwing each hand, but surely given the way Fae loved wagers and puzzles, he wouldn’t purposely lose. In the end the question was – what could she request that was equal to his wager and would not end with her pinned under his naked body?

“If I win, I get to see you in all black and the ‘guyliner’,” she finally said, tilting her head as he smiled mischievously at him.

“I’m not fully sure what this ‘guyliner’ is, am I to assume it is something akin to facial adornment?” he asked, clearly puzzled, until she nodded. “Fine, but what of the kiss. Are you telling me you _don’t_ want one?” he purred, chuckling at the sudden catch in her breath.

“I…I didn’t say that,” she muttered, taking a large gulp of her mug of ale. “I’ll take the kiss as well.”

“Deal,” he replied, snapping his fingers. A parchment IOU spelling out the terms of the unusual bet appeared on the table between them. With his eyes on hers, he rapped his gloved knuckles on the table. “I call. Let’s see your hand, pet.”

A slow smile crept across Sarah’s face as she began to lay out her cards. “Four Aces…sorry your ‘Tightpantedness’,” she chuckled, her green eyes alight with wicked glee, as she reached for the IOU. “But I look forward to seeing you as per the terms of the wager.”

Still grinning, she started to pull the IOU across the table, only to be stopped by a gloved hand laying firmly over hers. Glancing up, Sarah’s heart froze at the decidedly evil smirk on the Goblin King’s face.

“What is it that the humans say…oh yes… Not so fast, pet,” he purred, curling his tongue around his canines as he glanced down at his cards.

“But…no…you…you couldn’t….” she muttered, gawking at him as heat engulfed her whole body at the thought of the wager she had accepted.

“Unless I’m greatly mistaken regarding the rules of this game, I believe a royal flush beats four aces,” he chuckled, his tone dropping into a sensual growl that elicited a gasping moan from her.

One by one he lay down his cards. _Snap_. Ten of hearts. _Snick_. Jack of hearts. _Snict._ Queen of hearts. _Snip._ King of hearts.

“I believe _this_ belongs to me, my dear,” he purred, plucking the IOU from under her hand, leaving her staring at the empty spot on the table in shock.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Two pubs and a market stall later, Sarah found herself munching on the goblin equivalent of a kebab, as she and the Goblin King wandered through the night market. Despite the alcohol she had imbibed while visiting pubs with the King, she only felt the barest bit tipsy. _‘Must be the identity potion,’_ she mused, following the king toward a stall that smelled heavily of spices and something sweet. Silently munching on her kebab, she watched him as he haggled with the merchant, something he had done at every stall they stopped at.  Each time he would haggle with the merchant, initially working the price down, before offering to pay more than the initial asking price. ‘It’s cute,’ she thought, watching him as he returned to her side, holding a paper cone filled with spicy sweet almonds.

“Here, try these. They are a delicacy shipped to the kingdom from Avalon, then coated with local spices and honey,” he said, taking the kebab from her hand, then biting into it.

If someone had told Sarah when she got up that morning that by the end of the evening she would be drinking with Jareth, as well as sharing food and drink with, she would have suggested that they were certifiably insane – yet here she was.

Laughing she snatched the kebob back, “Hey…get your own, Jareth…I wasn’t finished with that.”

The Goblin King stopped, turning toward her in the middle of the path of merchant stalls. Surprised, Sarah glanced at him, noticing his odd expression. His pale eyes narrowed upon her, in a way that was stern and shocked.

“What…did you….just call me?” he demanded in a low, firm voice.

Gasping, Sarah dropped the kebab, her hands rushing to her mouth. “Oh shit…I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. I…I forgot myself,” she stammered, goosebumps racing over her flesh as a wave of fear washed over her.

“Say it again,” he ordered, his eyes steely upon her face.

“No, please…I’m sorry. I swear it will never happen again,” she murmured.

“Say. My. Name,” he ordered again, his gloved fingers coming to rest just under her chin.

Looking up at him, Sarah felt the intensity of his gaze as a physical presence. All around her, the scent of him seemed to grow, until she was filled with it with each breath.

“Jareth,” she whispered, then shut her eyes tightly, fully expecting that the next thing she would see would be the Bog of Eternal stench or worse still – a dungeon.

Nothing happened.

Slowly she cracked her eyelids and looked at the Goblin King once more. He hadn’t moved, his odd expression still a mask upon his face. For a moment she thought perhaps someone had frozen time, until she saw his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.

“Again,” he murmured, an urgency in his voice that made heat pool low inside her.

“Jareth.”

His lips crashed up hers, demanding and hungry, as his arm slid around her back, crushing her to his chest. Gasping into the kiss, Sarah found that she was responding with a hunger all her own. _‘This is crazy… oh Gods…. I’m kissing the Goblin King…in the middle of the Goblin City…oh shit!’_ she thought in a panic. Her libido however was delighted. Even her more pragmatic inner-self was rather pleased with this development.

Jareth was both surprised and inordinately pleased with her reaction to the spontaneous kiss. He hadn’t meant to do it, but the sound of his name on her lips drove all reason from his mind and he had to properly taste her. ‘Gods she tastes divine,’ he moaned inwardly, teasing his tongue along the inside of her lower lip, before thrusting it alongside her tongue in a way that made her moan and shift closer to his test. Feeling his core tighten further, wound like a spring ready to break, he gave into the kiss further, twisting his free hand into the back of her hair. With gentle but firm pressure, he tugged her head back, deepening the kiss, while drinking in the essence of her. He could feel his magic buzzing through his body, just as the kingmaking lines pulsed with their combined heartbeats.

‘Get hold of yourself!’ screamed his inner-self. ‘You’re the King! And you’re practically rutting with the woman in the middle of the Goblin City!’

His Goblyn side merely snarled curses in the Ancient tongue of the Elder Goblyns and encouraged him to take her – in the city…in his bed…in the dungeon….it didn’t matter where as long as he took her.

With a quiet growl, he finally broke the kiss, the two of them panting and breathless.

“I think…perhaps…it is time for me to return you…to your rooms,” Jareth murmured, trying to get himself under control once more, but the close proximity of the vixen made it difficult.

Nodding, Sarah muttered, “Yes. Excellent…idea…Sire..”

Blinking, he glanced at her curiously, wondering if she knew what she had just called him. “Come, pet, I will deliver you to your rooms,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. “And I can collect what upon your IOU.”

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

When the world unfolded again, Sarah found herself standing in the bower room, with the Goblin King’s arm still wrapped about her. Squeaking she jumped away from him, a furious blush rising to her cheeks.

“You…you shouldn’t be in here,” she gasped, frantically looking around the room and putting more distance between them. “This is my bedroom…er… your bedroom…no…I mean…ohhhhh!! You just shouldn’t be here!”

“Why? It is my castle, is it not?” he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement at her reaction.

“Yes but… it’s not proper,” she stammered, backing around the side of the bed toward the balcony.

“Perhaps, but the wager you agreed to was hardly proper for a Fae female either,” he chuckled, slowly stalking around the room toward her. “Of course, it would be perfectly acceptable by Goblyn standards.”

“I…I…”

Stopping and leaning against the doorway of the balcony, Jareth watched her back further way, his lips twisting into a wicked smirk. “Tsk…tsk, little witch. You’re not thinking of reneging on your wager are you?”

“I…um…” Sarah muttered, her eyes darting for an escape.

“Was kissing me so bad?” he asked, unfastening the clasps on his leather jacket and dropping it to the floor, where it disappeared in a haze of golden glitter.

“Well…no….of course not.”

“Wasn’t it your idea to take the shirt from my very back?” he enquired, his gloved fingers starting to unfasten the buckles along the side of his leather breastplate.

Gulping Sarah nodded, sure that her face was glowing so bright it could be seen through mists to the Above. “Yes…but….”

“And wasn’t it _you_ who raised the bid further?” he asked, pulling the breastplate over his head and dropping it to the floor, where it to vanished.

“But…” Sarah protested, kicking herself for the pleading tone in her voice.

“Well then,” he purred, untying the laces at the neck of his silken shirt. “I think it is therefore time for you to honor your end of the agreement.”

Sarah’s eyes widened as she watched him expose more of his chest, the golden amulet of his royal crest glinting against the smooth expanse of flesh. _‘Lick it!!!!’_ demanded her libido in a banshee screech. Desperately ignoring her libido, Sarah’s fists clenched at her side. As he reached for the hem of the shirt and pulled it over his head, Sarah heard herself give an unmistakably longing moan. A moment later Jareth was holding the embroidered silk shirt so that it dangled from the tip of a single gloved finger.

“Here you go…my shirt,” he chuckled, the sound a gentle purr that seemed to vibrate through her mind. “Would you like _me_ to change you into the shirt, or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

“I…I….” Sarah stammered, then snatched the shirt from his hand. “I can change myself,” she snapped, clutching the shirt to her chest she raced toward the bathroom, only to squeak when the door swung shut with an unmistakeable locking sound.

“Oh no little witch. There will be no running away into Jerra’s room to escape your debt,” laughed the Goblin King, who flicked his wrist toward the far corner of the room. An ornate dividing screen appeared tucked into the corner. “You can change back there, where I can be assured that you will not attempt to reneg.”

Horrified green eyes glared at him. “That’s not fair!”

Jareth paused, experiencing another disquieting sense of seeing Sarah standing before him.

Unable to help himself, he heard his voice say, “I wonder what your basis for comparison is?”

Shaking his head, Jareth smiled quietly and nodded toward the changing screen at the back of the room. “You’d best get on with it, little witch. I’ve got all night and I’m quite sure you don’t want anyone seeing me exiting your room come morning.”

Although he was unfamiliar with modern Aboveground slang, the Goblin King was quite sure that the words she muttered as she stomped behind the screen were not complimentary to his character or heritage. He heard her grumbling and cursing quietly, and felt his blood humming at the knowledge of what he was about to see.

Sarah muttered under her breath as she unfastened the side laces of the corset and pulled it off. Dropping it on the chair with a dull thud, she began tugging at the laces along the side and front of the green gown, heedless of the way her careless jerks of the cord puckered the fabric. When it was loos, she yanked it over her head and added it to the growing pile on the chair. “Stupid bloody Fae…” she mumbled, pausing the kick her shoes off. “Can’t believe I agreed to this…what the fuck was I thinking….” Reaching behind her she tried to grab the lacing cord for the underdress. “Shit… where’s the cord…” she growled, feeling along her lower back, then contorting herself to see if it was at the top of the dress. Turning in a small circle, she grunted softly as she tried desperately to pinch the elusive cord between her fingers – and failed. After several minutes of struggling, she kicked the wall in frustration, then sobbed as pain shot through her foot.

“What’s wrong, pet?” Jareth asked, his tone no longer teasing. “If the wager is too distressing, we can renegotiate,” he added with a sigh, while his libido and inner-self howled their protest at the thought of not earning the coveted prize – and permanent mental image – of her in his shirt and nothing else.

Sniffing, she shook her head, leaning against the wall behind the screen. “No… it’s not that I just….Ican’tgethisdamndressoff,” she mumbled, unable to believe what she was saying to the Goblin King of all people.

She heard him move closer to the screen.

“I didn’t quite catch that. Try again.”

Huffing, she turned around and backed out from behind the screen, her arms wrapped over her chest. “I can’t get this dress unfastened. So if you want to collect on your wager, you’ll have to unfasten it,” she snapped, hanging her head in defeat.

Sarah felt him move behind her, then shivered at the gentle touch of his hands on her shoulders. Bracing herself for his touch against her back as he worked the laces, she was surprised when he simply pulled her back against his chest. He didn’t wrap his arms around her, merely left his hands lightly on her bare shoulders, the sensation sending goose bumps racing down her arms.

“No, my dear,” he murmured gently, laying his cheek against hers. “I would rather collect this wager when _you_ are willing and _want_ to meet the debt.”

The Goblyn in him roared indignantly, while cursing him for a weakling. But Jareth wouldn’t budge. As much as he wanted to see the curve of her form barely hidden beneath the thin silk of his shirt, he did not want that boon if it was to be this distressing to her. And that knowledge confused him. Never before had he felt this way about a woman, both wanting her desperately and wanting to protect her – even if it meant protecting her from himself.

“No,” she whispered, leaning back against his chest with a quiet sigh. “I made the bet and I honor my debts, Goblin King.”

Silently they stood in the moonlight streaming in from the balcony, neither one moving or speaking. Within the space of two heartbeats, their breathing had synchronized, beating as one in the quiet of the room. “In case you are concerned that I might seek to compromise you, my lady Charlotte, I give you my oath, both as the Goblin King and as the Weaver of Dreams, I will not seek to take advantage of you…not tonight or any other. I will gladly accept your payment of the debt, and not one kiss more – until you willingly ask for, or initiate such a claim,” Jareth whispered in her ear.

“I thought Goblyn males took that which they wanted or was owed to them,” she muttered, trembling slightly at the teasing caress of his fingertips moving closer to her collarbones.

“They do, but no Goblyn male with any sense would attempt to take a Goblyn female against her will, to do so would be akin to cornering a sawtoothed flame badger in its den,” he replied, turning his head to brush his lips lightly against the tender skin beneath her ear. “Do you think me so foolish as to corner you in such a manner, little witch? Have you heard such tales of me?”

After a moment of silence, she sighed and shook her head. If she was honest with herself, knowing what she did now, she couldn’t see him abusing her trust in that way. “No, Sire…I haven’t.”

“Say my name, pet,” he demanded quietly, as his fingers traced along her collarbones, eliciting a soft gasp from the Sarah.

“Jareth,” she murmured, her voice trailing off until it was barely a whisper upon the midnight breeze that swirled into the room through the open balcony window.

“Am I so vile pet, that you would think so ill of me or think I would misuse you so?”

“No…Jareth….you aren’t,” she whispered, relaxing against his bare chest with a sigh.

Once more, silence fell between them, yet neither felt it as awkward. After several moments, Sarah pulled away from the Goblin King’s chest, just enough so there was space between their bodies. “Please unfasten the dress…Jareth,” she murmured.

Amazed by her strength, the Goblin King slowly began to work the lacing loose, drinking in the subtle tremor that ran through her the first time his fingers grazed the bare flesh over her spine. When the dress was loose enough that she could slip it over her head, Jareth turned on his heel and walked onto the balcony without a word, resting his hands upon the railing and fighting to control the pounding of his heart. She was so close to him. Had she been any other woman he would have already seduced her into his bed, yet here he was, standing on a balcony alone while she was nude in the bedroom – without him. _‘I’ve gone soft,’_ he thought to himself. _‘That is the only possible explanation.’_

 _‘Or you are falling in love with the changeling witch,’_ suggested his inner-self.

 _‘Don’t be daft. I can’t fall in love. Sarah holds my love oath and hasn’t released me,’_ he argued back.

The whole situation was without precedent.

Behind the screen, Sarah shimmied out of the dress, folding it over the other clothing. _‘The bet was for nothing,’_ giggled her libido making Sarah cringe as she slipped her knickers down her legs and off, dropping them on the pile. She pulled the silk shirt from where it was draped over the top of the screen, marveling at the sleek feel of the material in her hands. The material was so thin and fine that even if she didn’t know who it belonged to, she would know it was made for a King. Taking a deep breath she lifted it up and let it drop down her arms and over her head, moaning softly as the silk slid sensuously against her bare flesh. Her cheeks burned at the way her nipples immediately tightened, pressing taut against the material in a way she was sure Jareth would notice.

Carefully she rolled the sleeves up, the grasped the laces along the front of the shirt, which hung wide over her shoulders and was open to her waist, her bare flesh exposed in a deep ‘vee’. Nibbling her lip, she looked down, then dropped the laces and adjusted the shirt so that her breasts were covered, but her flesh still exposed, before stepping from behind the screen and padding silently toward the balcony. She paused at the doorway of the balcony, the gossamer curtains fluttering against her legs as she steeled herself. Breathing deep, she gently pushed the curtains aside.

Hearing a soft breath behind him, Jareth turned his heart thudding wildy in his chest at the sight that greeted him. She fairly glowed in the moonlight from the balcony, the white silk taking on a silvery sheen, which complimented her lightly tanned skin. His eyes drank in the fullness of her, marveling at the way the thin material skimmed over her curves, hinting at the luscious curve of hips, up over the gentle swell of her breasts. The wide opening of the laces lay back, exposing the lovely valley between her breasts, which his libido and Goblyn sides both demanded that he run his tongue over, until he knew her taste by heart. As the midnight breeze swirled around them, he noticed the taut buds pressing insistently against the silk, the sight of which made his blood burn like lava through his veins, forcing him to fight the urge to break his oath.

The Goblin King took a deep breath before speaking, his voice low and hoarse with need. “You look…. Like a goddess,” he murmured, unable to believe that this creature was willingly standing there, nude save for his shirt. In all his years, he had never seen anything so beautiful or erotic.

“Really?” she muttered, twisting her hands into the silk at her sides.

If she were a Fae female, the question would have been a transparent plea for him to compliment her beauty. Tilting his head slightly, Jareth saw that the question was not meant to manipulate him into giving her praise, but was a genuine plea for reassurance. Puzzled by the self-doubt he saw in her eyes, he smiled warmly. “Really, my dear. You as simply…stunning.”

Relaxing a bit, she gave him a shy smile. “Sorry, but I don’t make a habit of doing this sort of thing.”

The Goblin King nodded, taking a step closer to her. When she didn’t step away from him, he took another step forward and smiled. “Somehow, I believe you, Charlotte,” he chuckled, picking up one of the laces and teasing the tip of the aglet along her collarbone, pleased at the blush which flooded her cheeks and the way she trembled. “That said, I admit that I am surprised, my dear. I rather expected you to pull the lacing tight to cover yourself fully.”

Her green eyes flashed to his face, narrowing slightly as she gave him a sly grin. “While you didn’t say that I couldn’t lace the shirt closed, you also didn’t say that I could. It would be foolish of me to give you _any_ reason to cry foul…Goblin King,” she purred, her entire demeanor returning to the easy teasing he had enjoyed earlier in the evening.

“See…you’re using Goblyn logic,” he laughed, moving closer until he was standing right before her, the heat from his chest burning against the bare flesh of her own chest, despite the small space between them. “You are Goblyn, little witch.”

Sarah tilted her head up, meeting the heady intensity of his gaze with one of her own. She had come this far playing his game, she wasn’t about to back down now. Since he claimed that she was a Goblyn, there was no choice but to act like one.

Reaching up, she slide her hands through the feathery wisps of hair at the side of his head, taking two gentle, but firm handfuls of hair and pulling his head physically toward her. She captured his lips with her own, in a show of courage she never thought she was capable of displaying. The Goblin King growled into the kiss wrapping one arm around her and pulling her tight to his chest, while his other hand cupped the back of her head. Sarah gasped at the way the hard plane of his chest teased against her nipples through the silk, making them tingle at the sensation.

As the kiss deepened, Sarah felt a subtle electric sensation radiating from Jareth’s chest to hers, making her pulse race in time with his, until she found herself backing toward the bed and pulling him with her, her hands still entwined in his hair. Feeling her legs bump the back the bed, she paused, her mind screaming a warning that her libido and body were blithely in favor of ignoring.

Then Jareth stopped and stepped away, his gloved hands holding her at an arms length from his body.

“Wha…what?” she gasped, her heart beating hard from the hunger in the kiss.

“The debt has been paid, pet,” Jareth murmured, fighting his own internal struggle against the desire to throw her onto the bed, rip the shirt from her body and taste every inch of her. The woman was under his skin and it was getting harder to control his baser instincts.

“But…”

“No,” he said more firmly, the din in his mind as his libido and Goblyn sides roared their disapproval. Seeing the confusion in her eyes, and the tell-tale shimmer of tears along the ebony eyelashes, he pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms warmly around her. “Shush, Precious, you’ve done nothing wrong,” he murmured, kissing her forehead tenderly.

“Then why did you….stop,” she mumbled, her lips caressing the hollow of his throat in a way that threatened to break his resolve.

“Because one of us needs to keep their head,” he sighed, stepping back a bit and giving her a quiet smile. “Believe me, I would like nothing more than to spend the night showing you the types of pleasure that a mortal man could never show you, but… I gave my oath that I would not abuse your trust in me. I will honor it.” His gloved thumb lightly caressed her swollen lower lip as he shook his head, a hint of regret in his eyes. “Yes…it is very much time that I retire to my own chambers, before we do something that you may regret come morning.”

Turning he moved swiftly toward the balcony, his body seeming to ripple in the moonlight as he prepared to change.

“But Jareth…what about your shirt,” she called softly, rushing to follow him to the balcony, her eyes widening at the sight of the down feathers starting to appear down his spine.

“It’s yours now,” he chuckled, giving her a darkly lustful look as he hopped upon the balcony railing, balancing precariously. “You were right, it looks far better on you, little witch.” With his parting words still ringing in the air around her, Jareth fell from the balcony. Giving a small squeak of shock, she grabbed the railing and peered over in time to see his body shudder and twist. In the space of a heartbeat, he had changed from the lithe, seductive Goblin King, to a creamy barn owl, it’s wings spread wide to ride the air currents that swirled around the castle. The owl screeched triumphantly, then soared into the night, leaving Sarah standing alone on the balcony in the moonlight.

“I was right… _nothing_ about this was a good idea,” she muttered to herself as she turned and walked back into the bedroom.

 _‘The kissing…the kissing was good,’_ protested her libido, letting the memory of his kisses throb needily in her belly.

“Okay…so…he’s a good kisser. But it ends here. Playing this sort of game with the Goblin King is too damn dangerous. You know what they say about playing with fire,” she muttered, tucking herself up in the plush bed and snuggling down under the covers.

_‘Yeah…but what a way to burn….’_

 

* * *

**_As always, please review...they inspire me to write faster :)_ **

 


	7. Goblyn Harvest

As the solstice moon rose high into the sky, Jareth felt his bond to the land grow strengthen, until it seemed to coil in his mind, before flowing under his skin, making him nearly vibrate with the need to join with the land once more. For several hours he flew, swooping and soaring over his kingdom – not caring where he went; merely enjoying the sense of joy and peace he found upon the heated air currents. When his wings grew tired, he retreated to his private tower of the castle and walked the mysterious, ever-changing paths of the ‘Room of Improbability’ until such time as the land called him to attend to the fields and the first cutting of the wheat.

It was always this way during the major festivals. The magic of the land rejuvenated him, making him stronger in ways that ordinary kings would never understand. His sacred bond with the land meant he could feel each pull of the crops, seeking nourishment from the land. He could taste the rain that slaked their thirst. The crops were the land and in return, he was part of the crops. Each turn of the wheel of the year was the same…he felt it in his blood as well as in his soul.

And he was happy. Being Goblin King was more than a duty to those wishes away, it was a sacred post that gave him what he lacked as a young boy growing up at the High Court – Being Goblin King gave him a purpose.

There were, however, two unfortunate side effects to the incredible surge in magical energy that he was forced to filter through his body during the fire festivals – insomnia and an almost insatiable desire to find a suitable Goblyn woman and mate.

The insomnia was easy to understand, after all channeling the magical energy of an entire land, during one of the times of the year when that power was most freely available, was bound to ramp up one’s body. However the raging lust had been a surprise to him the first time it happened. After half a century, he finally realized that the feral need was his Goblyn side coming to the fore in the only way the Goblyn knew to celebrate the turn of the seasons – mating.

In the Above, it was commonly believed that the Fae had difficulties conceiving children. The truth of the matter was that conception was easy – carrying the babe was the problem. True Goblyns on the other hand, had difficulty conceiving in the first place. So when the land hummed with the magic of the fire festivals related to the growth of the crops, Goblyns felt it as a need to work the land during the day, and to seek a mate when the sun went down. That was the way of things and it worked. When the ancient festivals were held faithfully, the Goblin Kingdom flourished…when they were neglected, strife, famine and chaos reigned.

Which is how Jareth earned the kingdom in the first place.

The previous King had ignored the fire festivals, despite being warned by the Goblyn Elders of what horrors would befall the kingdom if the Ancient Wheel were not honored. But he didn’t listen. In the last great drought, three-quarters of those who carried Ancient Goblyn blood in their line perished from the resulting famine. Despite the decimation of his kingdom, King Wulfen refused to abdicate. This left the High King with a difficult decision, declare a war which would further injure the people of the Goblin Kingdom who were in no shape to fight a war; or find a way to legally depose the Goblin King in order to save the Goblyn race.

Being a young man at the time, Jareth suggested that someone might run the Labyrinth, he had read the dusty tome of the Labyrinthian Accord, which stated that a worthy king was one who had bested the Labyrinth itself and learned it’s true secret. His father and brothers had laughed at the idea. “No Fae with any sense would take on that blasted maze,” Oberon had said, clapping Jareth firmly on the shoulder. “And if they did, do you honestly think any one who ranked high enough to rule would be able to take on the maze without their magic?! Wulfen was the last one, and he never did discover the true secret, which is why the maze is as strong as it is.”

The laughter when he suggested the idea was hard enough to bear, but the laughter that greeted his offer to take on the maze himself, still rankled 300 years later. No one thought he could do it, but then, no one had ever believed he would amount to anything. After all, he was the third son of the High King, born to a seer to the King of the Underworld. He was nothing but a Fae-Nephilim hybrid, who was spurned by his mother’s clan, and barely tolerated amongst the court of Avalon.

As he stalked up and down the disorienting stairs and paths in the Room of Improbability, Jareth could still hear their laughter ringing in his ears. In the end it was he, who had the last laugh. The impulsivity of youth worked in his favor, although he was reasonably sure that several Gods and Goddesses were involved as well. Under the dark of the moon prior to Lughnassah in his 237th year, Jareth transported himself to the outer gates of the Labyrinth and demanded that the sentient beast of a maze allow him entrance.

Unlike his brothers and father, the Labyrinth didn’t laugh.

 _“Who are you, child?”_ he felt the maze ask, it’s voice whispering in his mind like decaying leaves rustling in the wind.

“I am Jareth of the line of Oberon, descendant of Dagda. Your people are being neglected by your Master. Will you sit by and watch them perish?” the young prince demanded.

He felt an odd humming in the air around him, and knew instinctively that the beast was considering his words.

“I am but the Labyrinth. I have one charge – punish those who wish away the most precious of all. What am I to do to protect my people?”

“Accept my challenge for the right to rule. Only by the Labyrinthian Accord of the Elders can we defeat your Master and help your people!” he said, his voice echoing hollowly against the ancient stones of the Labyrinth’s gates.

No sound greeted his demand, save the rustling of wind through the sunburnt brown leaves of dying rose bushes planted near a crumbling, decaying stone fountain outside the gate. Still he waited, refusing to back down.  He knew that he had to get the maze to see reason and at least permit him to enter.

 “I feel the pain of my people, they cry for aid in their hour of need. What can a mere child of Oberon do to right this wrong?”

Standing straight, Jareth faced the gates, while the hot wind whipped his hair and body, blasting him with sand and shards of rocks, to leave bleeding lines upon his flesh. “I can do what your Master failed to do…I can uphold the Ancient Festivals, and restore growth to your land and your people.”

“I want…an oath…to seal our bargain, Jareth de Dagda,” the maze whispered in his mind.

Without hesitation he pulled his knife from his boot and sliced into the palm of his hand. Squeezing his fist tightly, he walked toward the heavy gate, letting crimson drops fall to stain the sand below his feet. “I, Jareth mac Aubergon toísech clainne Dagda, give you my oath…should I solve your paths, thereby defeating the current king who let you fall to ruin and allowed your Goblyns to perish, I will right the wrongs. I will honor you, your land, your people and the Ancient festivals which provide for them all…upon pain of my own death should my oath be foresworn!” he shouted into the wind, smearing his blood upon the stone gates. The crimson blood glittered briefly against the stones, then seemed to sink within the stone.

Hours passed, and still Jareth waited at the gates. As the sun began to set behind the stonework walls, the heavy gates of the Labyrinth began to creep open.

“Enter Jareth mac Aubergon toísech clainne Dagda. You have thirteen hours to solve the riddle of the Labyrinth. By my laws I cannot help you, nor can the magic of your birthright. May the Gods and Goddesses of the Ancients aid you in your quest.”

Jareth didn’t hesitate as the gates creaked and groaned open. He stepped into the stone pathway and began his search, hoping against hope that the reading he had done in the Goblyn Elders section of the High Court library would give him some advantage.

Playing the memory of his journey through the Labyrinth in his mind, Jareth turned to walk upward along a ceiling plane of the room, smiling to himself. Apparently he had been favored by the Ancients, for he had found the true secret of the Labyrinth, which no other before him had found. From that point, deposing Wulfen was simple. And as promised, Jareth restored the kingdom, by honoring the land, it’s people, the Labyrinth and the Ancient Wheel of the Year. In return, the Labyrinth gave him the right to rule her and the people gave him their obedience.

Sighing, Jareth paused, standing upon the ceiling as he looked out a large window, watching the Labyrinth shift and change under the moonlight.

The insomnia caused by the extra magic from the land and the ancient festival was inconvenient, but not difficult to deal with. It was the desire to find a Goblyn mate which was more annoying. In years past when he had lovers, he would simply exhaust them with his need – at times taking more than one to his bed to quench it. But Sarah changed all of that, or more precisely, his love oath changed it. Since that night, he had been unable to slake his lusts with lovers. Try as he might, none of them eased the need. After years of trying, he simply gave up. When the need for physical intimacy struck him, he was able to enjoy the company of past lovers. Yet during the Goblyn mating lust of the fire festivals, he found no solace in the arms of lovers. Sarah held his love oath, there would be no true mate save her – and that was impossible.

For the last three years he had felt no pull toward any female, not as a lover, nor as a partner to slake his lusts during the festivals. No one that is, until Lady Charlotte. The woman was under his skin in a way he couldn’t fathom. As the moon rose higher in the sky, and the roars of Goblyn mating drifted up from the towns and villages, all Jareth could think of was claiming a Goblyn mate of his own. In particular, his Goblyn instinct demanded Lady Charlotte.

“It’s absurd,” he muttered to himself, casually dropping crystals to the floor below, just to hear them shatter into thousands of glass shards. “I’ve known her less than a day.”

 _‘Goblynwyfe,_ ’ growled his Goblyn instinct with an enraged roar as the Goblin King shook his head, dismissing the thought.

“Taking her in such a way is out of the question. It can’t be done. I’ve given her an oath that I would not abuse her trust and I won’t,” he grumbled at himself, dropping several more crystals. “The issue is more a question of _why_ the need of her pulls at me so. Perhaps she has bewitched me?” he mused.

“Who is that, Sire?”

Jareth slumped against the corner of the ceiling and slid down the wall to sit, hanging improbably upside down. Lost pale eyes looked out the window, but no longer saw the Labyrinth in the distance, his gaze far away.

“Lady Charlotte. I cannot love, my oath to Sarah forbids it, and yet there is this pull toward the Charlotte that I cannot deny,” he muttered. With a deep sigh he ran a bare hand through his hair. After several moments of silence, the Goblin King looked at Alesander, as his advisor stood in the upright doorway of the room. “What do we know of Lady Charlotte’s heritage?”

“Um…nothing, Sire. As you are well aware, it is nearly impossible to establish lineage when a changeling is adopted in the Above. The best we could say is that she has High Fae blood within her and judging from the physical traits, it is a direct parental line,” the adviser replied, wondering silently at the brooding look on his King’s face. Watching the frown lines on the Goblin Kings face deepen, Alesander finally spoke, “May I speak freely, Cousin?”

Nodding, Jareth stood and started to make his way along the secret path toward the ground floor of the room, where Alesander stood. “Please do.”

“There is only one other being more powerful than you in the Underground and that is the High King. So questioning whether Lady Charlotte has bewitched you is foolish and you know it,” the dark Fae said bluntly. “What you are describing is a either an infatuation or love. If it is infatuation, then simply bed the witch and be done with it.”

A crystal flew past Alesander’s nose, shattering against the wall behind him. Alesander didn’t flinch as the King’s ‘warning shot’ zoomed past his face.

“This is not infatuation, of that I am certain,” the Goblin King snapped. “And even if it were, bedding her in such a cavallier fashion is not an option.”

“Why ever not, cousin? When did you develop scruples where the fairer sex were concerned?” laughed Alesander.

“Do you really fancy bedding your wife after a dip in the Bog? I’m quite sure Bethen would banish you from her indefinitely,” Jareth growled, casually dropping from one level to another on his way down from his perch. “I can’t bed the wench because I gave her an oath that I would not misuse her trust in such a way.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Alesander watched his cousin approach. “That’s your problem, Jareth…you’ve become all together too free with giving your oath to women.”

Jareth pursed his lips in a frown and nodded thoughtfully. “On that I agree. Come, the land calls to me. I must prepare for the ceremonies,” he said, his sharp footfalls echoing into the room as the planes shifted once more. “Now, do you have any useful advice to give?” he asked as the two walked through the silent castle, it’s occupants lost in their predawn dreams.

 “Well, as I see it, you have two options – you can find a way to speak to the Sarah girl and get her to free you of your oath. It wouldn’t solve your problem of a blood heir, but would render the love oath void. Or course she might surprise you and accept the oath and your original offer,” he said, only to be answered with an irritated growl.

“Why must you and my parents insist that Sarah accepting my love oath is an option?! The blasted girl would sooner marry Hogwart than give my love a chance!” Jareth fumed, waving his hand at his chamber door and sending it flying open with a tremendous crash.

“Okay, fine… there is only one other solution,” Alesander said, dropping into a chair by Jareth’s fireplace and pouring himself a cup of tea from the waiting pot. “Resign yourself to being loves bitch.”

“More like the Fate’s whipping boy,” muttered Jareth as he wandered into his bathroom.

Arching an eyebrow, Alesander watched him go and chuckled, “Incidentally, Sire…I notice your shirt is missing. Did Sir Didymus beat you at darts again?”

Jareth poked his head around the door of his bathroom, giving his cousin a wicked smirk. “It was poker…and it _wasn’t_ Sir Didymus.”

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Tip-toeing, Jerra made her way through the moonlit room and nudged the duvet covered lump on the bed. “Pssttt…Sarah…wake up. We’ve got a half hour to get ready,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle her friend too badly. The two women had spent enough time together that Jerra had learned the hard way that Sarah was not only difficult to wake, but she had a nasty tendency to lash out. In fact, the last time Jerra tried to wake her up, she ended up with a black eye for the next week!

“Come on, Sarah. We’ve got to get moving,” she said a bit louder as the lump shifted on the bed, tugging the covers over the top of its head. “Fine then you can stay here and miss the chance to see a shirtless Goblin King,” she announced, her voice louder this time as she moved around the room lighting the lamps. Behind her she heard a sleepy mumble from the bed and laughed brightly, then stopped, her eyes drawn to the items piled on top of the desk in the corner of the room.

Whistling under her breath, Jerra started to look through the pile. Six boxes of Goblin cider, each holding 6 flagons. Two bottles of the Goblin King’s private reserve apple wine. “Wow…someone had a good time,” she muttered to herself, picking up a small purple pouch and pouring the contents into her hand. “Merlyn’s knickers….25….50…wow…113 dariqs.” Reaching over she opened the lid of an engraved wooden box, then gasped, “That’s…that’s a Dwarven tiara and…shit! A matching necklace?!”

Jerra peered over her shoulder at the blanket covered lump that was moving on the bed, watching as Sarah finally sat up, her hair a mess of plaits and poufy strands of hair that stuck out at odd angles.

“Um…Sarah…did you and the Goblin King have a Goblyn wedding last night,” Jerra asked.

“Wedding?Wha…’course not,” Sarah mumbled, scrubbing at her face with her hands as she yawned. “Well…ahh…things are kinda fuzzy…I don’t _think_ we did…” she added, stretching her arms above her head then purring as her back cracked. “What’s a Goblyn wedding like?”

Biting back a grin, Jerra continued to look through the pile of things on the desk. “Oh, it involves eating from the same dish, drinking from the same cup and being blessed by an Elder Goblyn.”

Sarah continued to stretch, letting her joints pop and muscles loosen up. “Well, we did share a kebab and a bottle of Fire Whiskey. And the Wiseman’s bird-hat, Thaddeus, did bless me when I sneezed and set the Wiseman’s beard on fire. Does that count?”

“No, you’re safe. The Wiseman doesn’t count as an Elder Goblyn Druid,” chuckled Jerra, half watching Sarah and half flipping exploring the items on the desk.

“Whew…glad to know I’m not stuck with that peacock of a Fae for the rest of my life,” Sarah giggled. Shoving her hair out of her face, Sarah stumbled into the bathroom, still marveling at the fact that the castle had a reasonable facsimile of a modern toilet. As she ran water in the sink and started to brush her teeth, she finally processed what Jerra was asking her. “So…why would you think Jareth and I got married last night?”

Jerra’s head snapped toward the bathroom door when she heard the Kings name coming from Sarah’s lips. For as long as she had known Sarah, the two of them had an unspoken agreement _never_ to say the King’s name, since it was common knowledge to say it was to risk invoking him. Pausing a moment she peered around, waiting to see if he would appear. When he didn’t, she breathed a sigh of relief and walked toward the bathroom. Poking her head in the door, she grinned, “Because of all the stuff on the desk. It looks like Goblyn wedding presents. Either that or you and the King robbed a pub and a Dwarven jewel vault.”

With the handle of her toothbrush poking out between her foamy lips, Sarah’s face wrinkled in confusion as she looked at the pixie. “Wha?”

“See for yourself. Or do you have a secret admirer who likes to leave gifts in a ladies boudoir while she is asleep?” Jerra asked, laughing at the way Sarah pushed her out of the way and rushed into her bedroom.

“UckinEll!” Sarah said, then giggled as she pulled her toothbrush from her mouth and went back into the bathroom. “No, that’s just my winnings.”

“Winnings?”

“Yeah, Jareth is really quite horrible at most games. At least he is when you bind his magic so he can’t cheat,” the brunette laughed, rinsing her mouth then wandering back into the bedroom. Stopping by the bed she leaned over and stood with her hands flat on the floor, stretching again, before standing up. The thin silk of the King’s shirt slid unnoticed down one shoulder.”

Shaking her head in wonder, Jerra grinned. “So, you didn’t marry the Goblin King, and this haul is just your winnings.”

Sarah nodded and smiled as she picked up her hair brush and began to untangle her hair.

“Hmm…and unless I am greatly mistaken, _that_ is the Goblin King’s shirt. The very shirt he was wearing at dinner last night. It must have been a _very_ intimate game for you to wind up naked wearing his shirt,” she teased, dropping onto the foot of Sarah’s bed and wrapping her arms around her bent knees.

Glancing down Sarah saw the embroidered shirt and her face flushed crimson at the memory of the last hungry kiss she and Jareth had shared. “Um… well… yes it is…but it isn’t what you think,” she said with a sheepish grin.

Jerra arched an eyebrow and gave Sarah a knowing smirk, “You’re naked and wearing the Goblin King’s shirt, I’d say it is _exactly_ what it looks like. What time did he leave?” she asked looking around, “Or is he still here?”

“It’s not like that!” Sarah grumbled, throwing a pillow at Jerra’s head. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

“Well get dressed. Cheryse laid out a Goblyn work outfit for you today.  You can tell me your complicated tale that involves booze, jewels and the Goblin Kings shirt on the way to the fields,” Jerra laughed. Looking through Sarah’s winnings, Jerra picked up a slightly crumbled bit of parchment and read it. Gasping she looked at Sarah in shock, “Wait… this says something about kisses. You were betting against the Goblin King with _kisses?!?!_ ”

“Like I said…it’s complicated,” Sarah giggled, as she darted into the bathroom to bathe.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/**

The morning sky was still deep purple when Jerra and Sarah took hold of the shimmering transportation crystal provided by the Goblin King’s advisor. Gasping, they felt the disconcerting sensation of their stomachs dropping, while the world seemed to wrap around them in a burst of color and wind. Then as suddenly as the sensation began, it ended, leaving them standing near a Goblyn farm in the village of Glynnisfyre. Situated in a valley of the Ellusian Mountains, Glynnisfyre was a primary producer of wheat for the kingdom, and Jerra wanted Sarah to have the experience of celebrating the harvest as the people of the kingdom did.

“Jerra-dan!” a woman called from the porch of the large cottage. She was taller than the castle goblins,  with pale green skin and bright amber eyes. Her long red hair hung in two neat plaits from her ears to her hips. Poking through her hair were two long pointed ears, with a series of gold earrings around the tips of each. Smiling shyly, Sarah watched as the woman rushed up and hugged Jerra tightly, then stepped back as a tiny cry was heard within the swatch of pale blue linen wrapped over her shoulder and down around her hips. “Oh, Seanthe` darling,” she cooed, folding back a bit of the blue linen to reveal a small baby tucked against her chest. The babe sniffled and gave another sleepy cry as she shushed it, before taking Jerra’s hand and beaming at her. “I’m so glad you could come celebrate with us this year. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you!”

Smiling happily, Jerra nodded toward Sarah, “Leatha, this is…Charlotte. My business partner from the Above.”

Leatha gave Sarah a warm smile, then hugged her carefully to avoid upsetting the baby further. “Oh! The changeling from the Lughnassagh court? We’ve heard of you!” she said, her smile even broader than before.

“Embarassing news travels fast in this kingdom,” Sarah replied with a sheepish smile that was met with a soft laugh from Leatha.

“Please don’t think ill of us. It’s the first time in ages that the Goblin King has pardoned anyone at the festival court, much less shown any interest in a woman outside the Avalon court,” she said, linking her arms with Sarah and Jerra, and leading them toward the field where others were already mingling.

Blinking in confusion, Sarah frowned as she looked at Leatha.“Wait…what do you mean by ‘interest’?”

Leatha chuckled and winked at Sarah, “Oh, the details are a bit spotty. But we’ve heard tell that a lovely changeling with startling green eyes was keeping him company on his ‘rounds’ last night.  Some of the versions suggest that she was Elvish. Others say she was clearly Dragonkin. But I prefer the one where she is Goblyn. That’s what our King needs. A good Goblyn-wyfe to keep his Goblyn side happy and well pleased. Of course, if the stories of our King are true, I’m sure he’d be able to keep a strong Goblyn-wyfe happy and satisfied as well,” she laughed, making Sarah’s face flush.

“Oh my! It wasn’t like that. We were just…drinking,” she stammered, half wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.

A taller male stepped up behind Leatha, his deep brown eyes sparkling merrily. “Aye…and what would you know about being a strong Goblyn-wyfe,” he asked, slipping his arms around Leatha’s waist and pulling her from Sarah and Jerra. With a booming laugh he swung her around, then kissed her soundly when he brought her to stand once more.

“That’s Jaeme, Leathea’s husband,” Jerra giggled, watching the couple happily.

 “Oi…put me down…you’ll wake the babe!” Leatha squeaked, hitting the man’s shoulder as he swung her back to her feet. “I’ll remind you just how strong a Goblyn-wyfe you’ve married tonight, ye rascal,” Leatha snorted, giving Jaeme a playful shove to his chest. “Now off with ye. I must make sure the ring is ready, as the sun is nearly rising.”

Jaeme kissed the tip of her nose, then dropped a tender kiss upon his son’s head, before heading off to join the other males in a group near the field.

Seeing the puzzled look on Sarah’s face, Leatha smiled and linked arms with her again. “Jaeme is both my husband and mate in the old Goblyn ways,” she explained, leading Sarah to a spot near the field, where a large ring was marked out on the ground by billberry sprays, poppies and summer ivy.

“Pardon me for being rude, I don’t mean to be…I’m just… well this whole weekend is a lot to take in,” Sarah sighed, feeling out of her depth for being there at all. “But, you don’t look like the little goblins around the castle.”

“That’s because I’m not. They are a hybrid, part Goblyn, part brownie. Not like me. I’m Goblyn. My ancestors are of the Elder Goblyn line. There are only a few of us left, but our King does his best to help us grow,” she says, gazing down fondly at her sleeping son. “His Majesty is why we hold to the old calendar and keep the festivals of the ancients. Doing so grants both the Goblyn people and the land growth and prosperity. Without the King, the Goblyns would have perished years ago. He saved us.”

Listening to Leatha’s words, Sarah could feel how geniuine her adoration was for the Goblin King, and it gave her pause. For years she believed he was a villainous cad, with no regard for anyone or anything save himself. Yet it seemed that his people loved him. And more than that, it seemed that he did care about their well-being. Nearby, Jaeme blew upon a silver horn, and the sound of laughter and talking died down, as the guests and workers  gathered near the ring of flowers on the ground,

Looking around she understood now why the women were dressed in a style similar to what she was wearing – they were clearly Goblyn and she was wearing the Goblyn working clothes that Cheryse had laid out for her. Her skirt was dark brown linen, the hem of which was trimmed with a crimson guard. Instead of a shirt she was wearing a cream-colored linen peasant blouse with full sleeves and a neckline that fell wide to the edge of her shoulders. Over the shirt was a simple brown bodice, cut like a corset, with straps going over her shoulders, but unboned – just right for bending and twisting while working at manual labor.

One by one the guests and workers knelt outside the flower ring facing the field, with the poppy petal strew path leading from the ring to the field. Inside the ring of flowers was a short handled scythe, the handle of which was bedecked with ribbons of yellow, red, green and gold. In silence they watched both the horizon and the ring of flowers.

Leaning toward Jerra, Sarah whispered, “What are we waiting for?”

“Shh…just watch…,” her friend muttered.

As the sun began to peek just above the horizon, Sarah felt it, almost like a faint shiver in the fabric of time. The air seemed charged with something she couldn’t quite name, an energy that made the hair on her arms stand on end. Without warning, fanfare or even a hint of glitter, the Goblin King materialized in the middle of the floral ring. His hair was less fluffy and pulled back from his face in a low ponytail tied with a simple leather thong. In many ways he looked almost like he did when he launched himself from Sarah’s balcony the night before. His legs were clad in worn leather leggings the color of sun-baked soil, with heavy leather boots drawn up to his knees. The fact that he was shirtless was not as much of a surprise as the sight of twisting and turning knotwork lines that seemed etched in his skin covering him from neck to waist -- and Sarah was quite sure they extended to the rest of his body as well. Mesmerized, she held her breath watching the way the etched lines pulsed with a dark amber glow, the pulsing in time with her own heartbeat. Feeling the pulse in the ground below her knees, she realized it wasn’t just hers, but the heart beat of the land itself.

Afraid to breathe, she watched him bend to grasp the bedecked scythe, then stride silently toward the field. His eyes were focused and firm, as he stepped into the golden strands of wheat. Transfixed by the sight of him, Sarah felt her blood race through her body seeing the way his lithe form twisted then bent, as he brought the sharp blade down low, slicing a fall of wheat. Turning, he left the field, the cut wheat cascading to the dirt in a golden fan. When he returned to the ring, he smiled warmly at the gathered Goblyns and guests, his pale eyes glowing softly. Sarah felt her breath catch as tears rushed unbidden to her eyes. An emotion she couldn’t name washed over her, leaving her shivering from the sheer force of it. He was beautiful and majestic.

 _‘Godlike,’_ her inner-self whispered in awe.

 “Maygul tan walyun tarnishae,” he said, his voice taking on an ethereal quality that echoed against the mountains behind him.

As one, the Goblyns surrounding the circle returned his blessing, “Maygul tan walyun tarnishae!”

Then without another word, he simply vanished. A soft humming began behind her, the deep baritone of the male Goblyns setting the tone of the song as the women began to sing. One by one the men rose and moved out into the field, still humming, while the women provided the words in a language Sarah didn’t recognize.

“What…did the Goblin King say?” she whispered to Jerra, as more people around them rose and walked into the fields.

“That was Goblyish. The language of the Ancients,” the pixie said, squeezing Sarah’s hand. “He gave the traditional blessing…’ May the wheel of the seasons continue to turn’.”

Looking at Jerra, Sarah saw that her eyes were also shimmering with the telltale sign of tears unshed.  As the song grew louder, Sarah recognized what it was, even without understanding the words – it was a working song, designed to set the pace for manual labor. The men spread out in a line across the field, each holding a short scythe like that used by the Goblin King. In time with the rhythm of the song, they began to swing their scythes, then take a step forward, before swinging again. From her spot outside the field, Sarah was enthralled by the sight, then she noticed the able-bodied women entering the field. They worked in pairs, two women behind each of the men. As the men arched up to swing, the women crouched down, gathering the wheat into a bundle, then fastening it with a neat twist of the wheat itself.

It was a dance.

Sychronous and joyful, the workers harvested the wheat, their song ringing out over the hills around them.

The longer Sarah stood there, the more she felt the strange emotion welling up inside her, joy, love and a need so great it made her head swim. Her blood thrummed heavily through her, while a restless itch began beneath her skin, making her long to join the workers in the field; to become another dancer in the turning of the seasons. _‘I’m not Goblyn. It isn’t my place to join them,_ ’ she whispered to herself as she watched them, sad tears trickling down her cheeks from the pressure of holding her the urge back.

She was so lost in her internal fight, that she didn’t notice when Jerra left to help the older women with food under the pavilion. Nor did she hear the quiet footsteps walking up beside her.  Gasping almost in pain when a gentle hand was laid on her arm, Sarah jumped. The warm smile on Leatha’s face made Sarah’s heart ache even more, a miserable sob bursting from her throat, as her fists clenched uselessly into the linen of her skirt.

“To fight the call of the Goblyn to her land is a losing battle,” she murmured gently, giving Sarah’s arm a light squeeze. “Go Goblyn…feed your bond with the land and she will feed you.”

Giving a sob of relief, Sarah turned and practically ran to the field, falling in line behind one of the workers and losing herself in the rhythm of the harvest. Within moments she lost all track of time, focused solely on the gentle movements. Bending, twisting, gathering, tying, weaving, rising, begin again… it was a dance and she was called to the steps, knowing them by instinct as if they were written on her heart. The warm summer sun beat down upon the workers, their bodies bathed in sweat, but still they sang the joyful song of ripe crops, prosperity, blessings and hope – and Sarah joined them. In the far recess of her mind she knew she too was singing, but she was so focused on the pull of the harvesting dance, that she didn’t have it in her to wonder how she knew the words, only that she did.

Bend. Twist. Gather. Tie. Weave. Rise. Step…bump.

Bump?

“Grasan da (Excuse me),” said the person in front of her, who she bumped into when she bent to gather the next sheaf of wheat.

Gasping in surprise, she jumped back a step, dropping her bundle of wheat to scatter around the brown boots of the person she bumped. “Sorry…I don’t speak Goblyn,” she said, then looked up – straight into a pair of mismatched and highly amused eyes.

“That’s funny, since you’ve been singing along quite nicely since I rejoined the harvest,” the Goblyn King chuckled, his lips twisting in a quiet smirk. “Now…why am I not surprised to find you here, hmmm?”

Blushing she looked at him, his hair plastered wetly to his head from sweat, while his bare chest was covered in a fine sheen of moisture, which did nothing to dull the glowing amber lines. The combination of sweat, the amber lines and his natural scent made her head buzz, while her blood roared in her ears. Deep within her core a molten pool melted a bit, letting slip silken drops of heat that coated the tops of her thighs.

Sarah tossed her hair back from her face, her emerald eyes hooding in challenge, “And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

The Goblin King merely smiled warmly, his entire demeanour relaxed and peaceful. Leaning toward her, his lips brushed the shell of her ear, making her tremble. “Where else would a Goblyn witch be during the Lughnasagh festival, but in the fields where she can feed her hunger for the land and it’s power.” Stepping back, he gave her a searching look before nodding. “I know you feel the call to the land, just as I do.”

“You’re the King, it is natural you’d feel it,” Sarah replied, wondering at her words, yet somehow knowing that they were true.

“Here and now, I am just Goblyn… as are you, little witch, ” he said gently. Raising a gloved hand, he brushed a smudge of dirt from her cheek, his blue eyes warm and soft as he looked at her. Without another word he turned, retrieving his blade from the ground and resumed the ancient dance.

For several long moments Sarah watched him, hearing his voice rise in song with the others. No one treated him special or paid him any mind. It was just as he had said, at this moment, in this place, he was just a Goblyn, harvesting wheat and paying homage to the heart of the land. Bending, Sarah gathered up the scattered wheat and twisted it into a neat bundle, her voice soaring lightly to meld with his, the sound making her heart swell within her breast.

She didn’t know how long they worked together, not speaking other than to sing with the others. Each time the silver horn blew, they would break from their work and sit in the dirt of the field, as the old women and those with babes at the breast brought around trays of fruit and buckets of water from the crystal falls nearby. When the fruit was presented, Jareth would pick a piece, then cut a slice with the knife from his hip, offering it to the green-eyed witch, before cutting one for himself and carefully eating it from the blade of his knife. When the dippers of water were passed, he filled the tin dipper from the bucket of spring water, and held it for her to drink, smiling warmly as she cupped the cool tin with her hands and drank deep of the water, knowing how it would only add to her bond with the magic of the land.

As far as he was concerned, he was a Goblyn, in the field with a strong Goblyn woman who would make an excellent Goblyn-Rashglang. All was as it should be in his world.

At noon a longer blast of the horn rung out over the field and the workers stopped their toil and returned to the cool grass in the shade under colorful pavilions. Feeling relaxed and peaceful from the manual labor under the warm summer sun, Jareth decided to join the other men for a game of ‘Posts’. The men laughed and insulted each other in the way of Goblyn males, even going so far as to suggest that the Goblin King needed a good Goblyn woman to demonstrate his prowess as a proper Goblyn. This suggestion was met with a roar of laugher from both the men and the Goblin King himself.

“Goblyn rashgland nae burdona ma prayantarsh!” he declared, setting the others off in a gale of laughter, slapping each other on the back as they grinned.

“Aye, but you are past time for a Goblyn to take a wyfe at least,” chuckled Jaeme, then winked at the Goblin King.  “That Charlotte…she’d make a good Goblyn-wyfe, for a changeling at least.”

Arching at eyebrow at Jaeme’s words, the Goblin King inclined his head in agreement, “True, she is Goblyn. I know not how, but I feel it…in here,” he replied, tapping his chest where the spiral of amber coiled into the shape of the triskellion, the crest of the Goblin King.

The others nodded, murmuring agreement.

“The fields await,” laughed a short stout Goblyn with a thick red beard.

The others roared with laughter, claiming he was either brave or foolish to speak to the King so. For his part, Jareth laughed with them, although his Goblyn roared at hearing its wishes spoken freely.

Singing along with the others as she headed to the pavilions, Sarah expected the Goblin King to vanish, sure that he had other work to attend to. To her surprise he joined the other men near the side of the house, where several posts were driven into the ground. Watching them, the men seemed to form up teams, trying to toss bone rings around the posts. They laughed and taunted each other as they played, with the Goblin King taking his share of the ribbing with good-natured laughter. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat, there was dirt and wheat dust coating his chest and arms, but to Sarah he was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on. Something deep inside her seemed to growl at the sight, a wave of possessiveness creeping over her as a Goblyn woman offered the King a drink from a tin dipper. As he turned toward the woman to accept the dipper, his eyes flashed up, catching Sarah’s and sending the heated flush from her cheeks down across the top of her chest. With his eyes locked on hers he turned down the dipper. When the Goblyn with the dipper walked away to offer it to another male, the Goblin King kept Sarah’s gaze a moment longer, before turning and going back to the game.

Sarah’s breath left her in a rush as he turned away. _‘This is getting too dangerous. Just avoid him. Get through tomorrow and go home!’_ she scolded herself as she dropped onto one of the blankets spread in the shade.  While the other women spread out platters of food and huge pitchers of drinks, Sarah kept Leatha and Jaeme’s baby happy, helping him sit up. The sound of the baby’s laughter hung in the air as she made his stuffed chicken dance.

“You’re quite good with the little lad,” purred the softly seductive voice of the Goblin King as he sat next to her.

“Lots of practice with my siblings,” Sarah replied, grabbing the baby as he started to topple over and propping him up with her knees so he could sit.

Smiling, the Goblin King pulled several small shimmering crystals from the air and made them spin and bob in front of the baby, like a magical mobile. The baby squealed and cooed, reaching out and touching the baubles to make them sway and spin.

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” she teased, giving him a knowing smirk.

The Goblin King laughed and shrugged, “It’s either a benefit of the job or an unfortunate side-effect. I’m not entirely clear which.”  

They sat in companionable silence as the sun shifted higher in the sky. As the glowing orb reached its zenith, the rest of the men and working women joined them under the pavilion, casually lounging about on the picnic blankets in the shade. Lunch was a lively affair. Sarah had been to many potlucks and picnics over the years, but something about this one seemed more genuine…more pleasurable. In between the passing of heavily laden platters, people would offer entertainment. Some sang songs, others told jokes or quizzed each other with riddles. When it was Jerra’s turn, she giggled.

“Well, I’m no bard, but I’ll offer up a little tale that still makes me laugh. There once was a hapless Goblyn named Hablat Gobshot,” at the name the Goblyns under the pavillian roared with laughter, several of them nudging and slapping the shoulders of a round Goblyn who looked quite a bit like ‘Cousin It’ in Sarah’s view, his long red hair fell clear to his waist, covering his face if he didn’t twist it up to the top of his head with a leather thong. “Well old Gobshot was known to imbibe quite a bit upon the first night of the fire festivals. One year he drank so much, he was afraid to go home for fear his Goblyn-wyfe would remind him just why she was Goblyn.  Being afraid to go home to his bed, he also didn’t want to miss the King’s arrival to cut the first sheaf in the morning. So he decided to sleep in the field. The next morning, the Goblin King arrived to start the ceremonial cutting as usual. He picked up the scythe left for him, walked into the field and sliced the first sheaf. Well such a squeal was heard that Goblyns for miles around thought the world was ending or pigs were flying. But neither of those things had happened. No, the poor Goblin King had nearly scalped the sleeping Gobshot, giving the silly Goblyn the closest haircut any Goblyn had had or has had since. The festival was subdued and Gobshots wyfe was furious, as everyone believed that the field would be cursed, and the Goblyn Kingdom along with it. But as fate would have it, instead of being cursed, as Gobshot’s hair grew, so grew the crops in that field.  The end.”

Taking a bow and collapsing next to Sarah, the pixie blushed while everyone cheered.

The hairy Goblyn sitting on the other side of the Goblin King nodded and chuckled, the sound gravelly but happy. “Aye… I haven’t been game to cut me hair since that day!’ he laughed, offering his pipe to the king, who took it and sucked in a deep drag of the tobacco, before handing it back. “Thank ye Sire for not taking me head clean off.”

Exhaling a string of smoke bubbles, the Goblin King laughed, “I don’t know, your wife might have considered that an improvement.”

The laughter under the tent grew louder still, at the King’s words. When the laughter finally died down, everyone looked at Sarah, who was holding the sleepy baby in her arms. “Oh…I don’t have any talent to share,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink.

“Come on…yer goblin now…ye pay your fee for lunch with a song,” shouted one Goblyn.

“Or a story. We like stories…” suggested another.

Embarrassed at being put on the spot, Sarah sighed, ”Well I could sing a lullaby, I suppose.” Seeing the group under the pavilion nod, Sarah shut her eyes and began to sing the lullaby her grandmother always sang to her when she was young.

Like the others lounging on the picnic blankets, Jareth found himself mesmerized by the lilting song of the changeling sitting beside him. Inside, his Goblyn still insisted she must be made mate, although that desire was eased a bit by her song. The sound of her enchanting lullaby, combined with the sight of her rocking the babe in her arms made is heart throb with a yearning he was not used to. The sudden yearning for a child of his own saddened him a bit, knowing it would never come to be.

 _‘But you could still take a mate,’_ insisted his Goblyn side. _‘There are babes a plenty for fostering. But a strong mate is worth her weight in dariqs!’_

As the last notes of the lullaby died down, the Goblyns quietly murmured their appreciation, cognizant of the sleeping baby and toddlers held to their mother’s breasts. The mothers retrieved their babes and carried them into the house, as the workers lounging under the pavilion seemed to relax further. Many lay down on the ground, stretching out and shutting their eyes. Stifling a yawn, Sarah watched them, wondering when everyone would return to the field. Next to her the Goblin King reclined back onto the ground as well, his head pillowed by his bent arm.

“It is the resting period, little witch. You look done in. You should rest as well,” he said gently, soft snores setting up around them.

“Oh I…I’m fine…” she protested quietly, only to be stopped by the Goblin King’s hand.

Reaching out to her, he took her hand and pulled her down, so that her head was laying low on his stomach next to his hip, her body perpendicular to his. “Rest, Goblyn wench, or must I give you a royal command to make you obey?” he grumbled softly, his tone a sensual purr that made her heart race.

Sarah swallowed hard, waiting for the frantic fluttering in her belly to subside. Yawning again, she shut her eyes,  soothed by the way the Jareth’s gloved fingertips lightly caressed her forehead.  In no time she was asleep, her heartbeat gently throbbing in sync with the Goblin King’s and the land itself.

Sometime later she woke to a quiet purring chuckle, and the feel of something feathery tickling her nose. “Wakey wakey, Goblyn girl. Tis time to return to the fields,” Jareth said, his blue eyes shining merrily at her when she finally opened her eyes.

Sitting up she stretched and gave him a bashful smile. “I guess I did need that.”

He merely nodded then got up and joined the other men returning to the fields.

Leatha dropped down next to her and sighed, leaning back on the grass, her amber eyes full of adoration as she watched her mate return to the wheat.

“Does he always do this?” asked Sarah, her eyes still glued to Jareth’s retreating back, etched with amber swirls.

“Who? Jaeme? Aye…every harvest and every planting season,” Leatha replied with a yawn. “Would that I could be in the fields as well. But with a babe at the breast, this is my lot.”

“No, I meant Jar…um…the Goblin King.”

Cracking an eyelid, Leatha smiled knowingly at Sarah.  “As far as I know yes…every festival he spends with the people. He chooses different fields each time. He told Jaeme once that the land draws him to a particular field. We are particularly blessed to have the King here in the form of Lugh to toil with us. Our crops will thrive and so will our family,” she said, patting her slender belly with a happy smile. “Tis always the way of the chosen.”

Feeling the burning itch under her skin once more as the workers began their song, Sarah rose and followed the Goblin King into the field. Taking up her place behind him, she took a deep breath, letting the spirit of the land and the people fill her, then she lifted her voice with the King’s and stooped once more.

Bend. Gather. Twist. Weave. Set aside. Step. Bend. Gather. Twist. Weave….

And so the dance continued, long into the afternoon, as the sun beat down, bathing everything in its warming glow.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/**

When the sky was cast in rosy-orange, tinted to dark purple, the workers song changed from one of work to one of revelry. With the happy tune ringing against the hills, they turned from the field toward the house. Yet again Sarah expected to find the Goblin King had vanished, but he was still there, walking with the men toward the back of the house. Before she could wonder further where the men were going, her hands were caught by two other Goblyn women, covered in sweat, wheat dust and dirt. The three of them sang loudly and happily as they followed the other women into a small stand of trees on the other side of the yard. Gasping, Sarah saw that there was a spring fed pool in the clearing, protected by the towering trees. One by one the Goblyn women stripped off their working clothing and hopped in the pool.

“Oh…but I didn’t bring anything else to wear,” she said to the wizened old Goblyn matron collecting the dirty clothing. “I’d only have to put on my filthy clothes again.” Frowning at the thought she sighed and added, “Perhaps I’d best just return to the castle, although I’d hate to miss the bonfire.”

“Don’t you fret none, youngling,” said the old crone, patting Sarah’s arm. “You just get yourself clean and let ole Yana take care of ye. You’ve done a good days work and deserve a good evening’s revelery.”

Nodding, Sarah felt the gentle warmth of the woman’s words like a physical caress. Without protest she stripped down and joined the others in the pool, the chilly water quickly warming as she swam and played with them, laughing and teasing each other about their mates, husbands and potential for both.

“You’ve got a good catch in the King,” said a tall thin Goblyn woman, drying herself on a hot rock along the edge of the pool.

“Oh…he’s not mine. We’re just…I dunno…friends or something,” Sarah said, ducking her head under the cool water to quench the burning in her cheeks. When she rose she pushed her wet hair from her face and smiled, as the woman laughed.

“Well if you don’t want him, can I have him? He’d make a fine Goblyn mate.”

The others laughed at that, splashing the cheeky Goblyn with water and tossing bits of soap and soap rags at her while she laughed.

When Sarah finally got out of the water, Mother Yana wrapped her in a soft linen towel and began to physically dry her off, much to Sarah’s surprise. She knew from Jerra that Underground attitudes toward nudity and sexuality in general were different than the above, but this was something she had not been prepared for. Deciding Sarah was dry enough, the old Goblyn tied the towel around Sarah’s chest and handed her a set of clothing. “Here, these were Leatha’s before her babe was born. They will fit you just fine, youngling. A gift of thanks for helping in the fields and a gift of welcome to our land.”

Feeling tears spring to her eyes, Sarah threw her arms around the stooped crone. “Thank you, Mother Yana.”

The old Goblyn gave Sarah a warm hug and nodded. “No thanks to the likes of me child. Now come, tis time to dress. The food will be ready soon and you need a good meal to nourish you for the rest of the evening.”

“Yeah…for the mating!” laughed one of the Goblyn women, tugging on a dress of green and brown.

“Shush…this youngling isn’t for the fields just yet,” scolded Yana, swatting at the other Goblyn who giggled and ran away.

Confused by their exchange, Sarah pulled on a fine cream colored under dress. The sleeveless underdress was cut low across her bust and followed her form tightly until it reached her hips, before flaring out. Over that she laced a gown of deep blue, with white silken embroidery down the sleeves and around the hem. The skirt of the overdress was split into four panels, allowing the simple but elegant under dress to show. Seeing that she was dressed, Yana pulled Sarah to sit on a sun-warmed rock and began to comb and braid her hair.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/**

Leaning against the side of the house, Jareth tucked the long curved stem of his pipe between his teeth and inhaled slowly, enjoying the smooth feel of the smoke as it filled him. His hair was damp, but fluffing up as it dried, following his dip in the men’s bathing pool on the other side of the property. It had been a relaxing day, and aside from his Goblyn instincts becoming more insistent where Charlotte was concerned, he was feeling the peace of the land running through his veins. Seeing movement by the grotto where the women’s bathing pool was, he glanced up to see Yana coming out of the crystal pool clearing, leading a striking brunette in a deep, sapphire dress. For a split second he was sure he was seeing Sarahwalking out of the stand of trees. Rubbing his eyes he sighed. _‘I’ve got to stop thinking of her in that way,’_ he growled inwardly, then looked again, smiling at seeing Charlotte. _‘By the Gods…she’s beautiful,’_ he thought, marveling at the way the deep blue of the Goblyn dress made her skin seem to shine with the sort of luminescence common to the High Fae.

He watched silently as she walked up onto the long porch running across the front of the house. From his vantage point he could see Jerra bouncing the baby in her arms as he grizzled. His hands itched to take the child from her and calm him, but he merely stood by, watching Charlotte instead.

“Here, let me take him. I’ve had more practice,” the brunette said, taking the baby from Jerra and rocking him gently in her arms. “Oh yes I have!” she cooed at the babe, making the lad giggle and grab at her nose.

“Terrific, “ Jerra sighed, clearly glad to be rid of the babe. “I promised Mother Yana I’d help her prepare dessert,” she said, darting into the house.

Settling in a rocking chair on the porch, Sarah rocked the baby, humming quietly until he stopped fussing and gave a sleepy yawn. “Don’t get any ideas of being fed, little one. I’ll cuddle you. Play with you. Hell I’ll even change your smelly bum. But a wet nurse I am not,” she laughed, keeping her voice light and pleasant so the babe merely gave her a lazy smile and shut his eyes. Gently rocking the chair, Sarah looked around, watching Goblyns talking in small groups scattered upon the grace, the sound of talking humming in the air, along with the scent of roasting meats., “So where is your mum anyway? I didn’t think she let you out of her sight, little one.”

“She’s in the fields,” replied an sharply accented voice behind her, his words low and somehow tinged with a seductiveness that was surprising.

Glancing up, Sarah felt her cheeks flush at the sight of the Goblin King. He had come from behind the house where the mountain spring ran and judging from the way his hair was still damp in places, and his leggings clung  to his legs, she suspected he had gone for a dip. The glowing lines on his chest still pulsed with the heartbeat of the land, but he seemed not to even notice them as he dropped into the chair next to her, his muscles flexing with leonine grace.

“Oh…I didn’t think nursing mother’s worked the fields,” she replied, turning her attention back to the sleeping child tucked against her chest, his downy head smelling of warm sun and cinnamon.

Smiling curiously at her, the Goblin King watched as she seemed to smell the babe’s head, her hand gently caressing his back as he slept peacefully on in her arms. A wave of longing swept through him, as his Goblyn instincts howled their approval and demanded he take her to the fields himself.

“They don’t work the fields, but what Leatha, Jaeme and some of the other Goblyns do now is more than merely working the fields. They are honouring the fields, the land and the Labyrinth as the Great Mother,” he said, reaching out and tenderly stroking the soft cheek of the child.

From the fields a growling moan drifted upon the air, followed shortly by a soft cry of completion. Sarah’s face burned at the unmistakable sounds of sex. Seeing her blush, the Goblin King chuckled softly. “This is a sacred act to Goblyn-kin. The Labyrinth gave them a home when no one else did and she protected them when the old king allowed their race to nearly die out.“

“How could a maze do that?”

“Don’t be fooled. The Labyrinth is far more than a simple ‘maze, Charlotte,” he murmured. His gaze drifted back toward the fields, as yet more pairs of Goblyns walked out into the section of the field where wheat still stood, waving softly in the twilight. “She protected them, by giving me a chance.”

Although she was dying to ask more, the look on his face suggested that it was something he did not wish to discuss. “So… they what… have sex in the field?”

His pale eyes sparkled with amusement. “Not quite, little witch. In the fields, Goblyns do not merely ‘have sex’ as the parochial humans would put it. They _mate_. Doing so blesses the crops. Honors the Great Mother. And is believed to ensure fertility, prosperity and blessings upon the Goblyns as well.”

As another cry of orgasm reached her ears, Sarah felt her blood coursing hotly through her head, a strange tickle beginning in her stomach. “So if you are so much a Goblyn, even though most people say you are High Fae, why aren’t you in the fields as well.”

 Slightly surprised at her bold words, Jareth regarded her silently a moment, before answering. “First off, you must understand that while I was born of Nephilim and High Fae, my king-making here is vastly different to what you understand a ‘coronation’ to be. I _won_ my right to rule. There was no coronation, just me and the Labyrinth in the hidden heart of the land. In accepting this kingdom, I had to accept the people as well. Their blood now runs in my veins. While I now share the blood of the key races that sought the protection of the Labyrinth, her true children are the Goblyns, so their blood flows most strongly through me. When I say I am Goblyn, it is because I _am_ Goblyn.”

Gently stroking the baby’s soft cheek, Sarah avoided the Goblin King’s eyes, even though she could feel his gaze burning against her flesh. “Wouldn’t it be a high blessing for the King to ‘honor’ the Labyrinth by mating in the field as well?”

Jareth was surprised by her astute observation, and smiled, giving a brief nod of his head. “Indeed, for the King to join the people in the fields in the ancient way of honoring the land _would_ be a great boon for the people and the kingdom. However, while the Goblyn blood runs thick through my veins, I have no mate.”

Sarah snorted slightly and gave him a knowing smirk, “I’m sure you’d have lovers aplenty to take to the fields if you wished, Your Majesty.”

The Goblin King chuckled, flashing her a devious smirk, “True enough, little witch, but taking a mere lover or casual dalliance into the field in such a way would dishonor the land. What you must understand of Goblyn-kin is that while they may have a spouse, but not take them to ‘mate’, for taking a lover to the fields in the way of the Old Rites is to claim that person ‘rashglang’ – their mate. And this is not done lightly as Goblyns mate for life.”

“That’s….wow….lovely,” she murmured, her green eyes drifting toward the field as some couples left the wheat, walking hand in hand or in a gentle embrace, while still other couples made their way into the fields.

Hearing the sincerity in her words, Jareth felt his Goblyn side rise up once more, clamouring for the woman with the baby in her arms.

“So what…you mean to tell me you’ve never felt the desire to take someone into the fields yourself? I mean, you’re king, can you even do that?” she asked thoughtfully.

Jareth chuckled softly, “I am King of the Goblyn’s pet… the land and people would expect nothing less of me. But to answer your question, I once knew a woman that I would have gladly taken to the fields and taken her to wife as well, but… she was too young and not of our world.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “That’s…sad.”

Tilting his head slight, he peered at her, amazed to see sadness in her eyes on his behalf. “Perhaps someday I will once more feel that urge,” he said, catching her eye and smiling at the way she blushed. “For now I am content to observe the old ways, knowing that in doing so I protect my people and the Labyrinth. I’ll leave it to the Goblyns to honor the land in more… intimate ways…”

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/**

Where lunch was a relaxed affair, the feast to celebrate the cutting of the wheat was joyful…and loud. At the back of the pavilion were tables heavily piled with food, while the main area of the pavilion, still covered with picnic rugs and blankets, now had tables, chairs and heavy lounging cushions covering the floor. Guests filled plates and reclined on the cushions or sat at the tables, talking and laughing as they filled their bellies with all manner of hearty dishes – roast meats, egg casseroles, meat pies, vegetable stews and desserts of all kinds, were there to tempt them.

Still cradling the sleeping babe to her chest, since Leatha and Jaeme were still in the fields, Sarah let Jareth lead her along to the pavilion when the food was served. Seating her amongst a pile of cushions with a sturdy backrest, he caressed the babe’s head and gave her a warm smile. “Sit here. I’ll arrange food for you,” he murmured, then went to the food tables and returned with a plate loaded with food and a good-sized jug with a pouring spout on either side of the top.

“What a funny shaped jug,” Sarah said, struggling to pick up a spoon while keeping hold of the sleeping baby.

Smiling, Jareth set the jug down and picked up the spoon. “What did you want, my dear?” he asked, nodding when Sarah pointed at the vegetable stew. He scooped up a spoonful of the stew and offered it to her, relishing the faint pink tinge that rose in her cheeks as she hesitated, before taking the offered bite. “It isn’t a jug actually, it is called a ‘loving cup’ or ‘lovers cup’.”

The green-eyed witch spluttered a bit, coughing quietly until the babe stirred in her arms and gave a grumpy whine before settling again. Laughing softly, the Goblin King offered her a drink from the jug. “Relax, little witch. You are engaged in one of the most important functions of Goblyn-kin – caring for a babe in arms. I merely thought that the loving cup would allow you to drink more comfortably since I can hold it for you without spilling the drink.

Fighting the urge to cough again, Sarah sipped the sweet golden liquid from her spout of the jug, as Jareth gently tilted it upward for her.

And that was how dinner went. Sarah held the sleepy baby, and the Goblin King fed her while regaling her with tales of his kingdom and people. As the others finished eating and began to clear away the remains of the food, Leatha and Jaeme wandered up to the pavilion, their cheeks rosy, bits of wheat woven through their hair and overall looking thoroughly satisfied. Looking up as they sat next to Sarah, the Goblyn King chuckled quietly. “At this rate you’ll have to expand the house to find room for the children,” he teased them, laughing when Leatha blushed and retrieved her babe from Sarah.

“We can only hope we are so blessed, Sire,” Jaeme said, beaming adoringly at his wife.

Rising, Jareth nodded at the three of them, “You’ll excuse me of course, as I have preparations to make.”

Sarah watched him walk off, the amber lines glowing more faintly upon his bare flesh. Turning back to Leatha and Jaeme, she frowned slightly. “What preparations?”

“We’ll be lighting the bonfire soon, and since the King has blessed our fields by joining us for the celebration, he will light the bonfire and lead the dancing,” Jaeme explained, stroking his sons hand with a tenderness Sarah envied.

“Will you join in the dancing, Lady Charlotte?” Leatha asked.

“I don’t know…I don’t know the steps and I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

The two Goblyns laughed warmly, “Just watch. Once the music starts, you will know the steps. They will pulse in your heart and race in your blood, just like any other Goblyn.”

As the last faint rays of the sun darkened the valley, waiting for the moon to rise high enough to provide light, the Goblyns began to move toward a large stack of timber and wood, a hush falling over the valley. Standing with Leatha, Jaeme and Jerra, Sarah watched in silence with the others. From the shadows a form emerged, moving toward the waiting pyre. The Goblin King stood between the people and the pyre, the etched lines on his body pulsing a soft amber color. He stopped in front of Leatha and Jaeme and stood, his head bowed. Mother Yana stepped forward and tied a black cloth securely over his eyes, then placed both palms gently on his head, murmuring softly in Goblyn. When she stepped back, the Goblin King stood like a statue, his hands slightly extended, while his palms faced down.

With each breath, the glowing lines on his body faded until they turned dark, the sight making Sarah gasp softly. Clapping a hand over her mouth lest she disturb the ceremony, she listened to his slow breathing then bit her lip in awe. With each new breath he took, the lines began to glow. Starting at his waist and neck, an orange glow began to move through the lines. Twisting and winding along the knot work paths etched in his skin, the glow moved inward, until it coiled into the triskellion upon his chest. At that moment the Goblin King lifted his head, his voice an ethereal howl upon the wind, “Magrash ult na Goburin en populate!”

A burst of light seemed to flow from him into the pyre, just before it burst into flame. The flames gave a mighty roar as they whooshed upward, devouring the wood of the pyre and towering into the light. Licking and dancing against the velvety darkness of the sky, the flames hissed and spat.

The Gobin King stood still, then a low droning hum began in his chest, gradually getting louder and louder. Transfixed, Sarah felt the sound seem to bore into her body, until it hummed against her skin like the caress of his lips, sending a jolt of sheer desire to pool hotly within her. With the hum still echoing from his chest, the Goblin King began to move. Slowly he stepped around the bonfire, a glowing man keeping time with each step of booted feet. One…two…three laps around the bonfire, his movements speeding up with each lap. Twisting and turning, he danced. Without knowing when it happened, Sarah noticed a deep pulsing drum keeping the rhythm as well, as more male Goblyn voices joined in the droning hum. One by one the Goblyn males joined the King in his dance, each one moving in his own dance – yet somehow it fit together as one wild dance to honor the sun, the soil and the land. Faster and faster the males whirled around the dancing flames, the ethereal hum carrying upon the summer breeze until the hills echoed with the sound of pounding drums, slapping hands and the Goblyn drone.

With a triumphant cry, one the Goblyn women joined the dance, whirling with abandon amongst the male dancers, twisting and twirling in and out of them moving in the opposite direction. Then more women joined the dance, until there were two rings of dancers around the bonfire, each one moving in a different direction as the dancers wove in and out of each other and the opposing ring of dancers. It was absolutely hypnotic. Sarah tried to keep her eyes on where the Goblin King was, marveling at how he could dance so close to the fire while blindfolded, yet he never tripped or so much as brushed against another dancer – each step was solid and true.

The longer she watched the dance, the less she cared where Jareth was, her mind focusing on the sound of the droning hum, the thudding beat of the drums and the racing of her own heartbeat. Deep inside her body she felt the longing itch start up again, a feral feeling echoing in her soul. With a Goblyn shout of triumph, she felt herself join the dance, her eyes shut tight as she whirled and spun, singing as loud as she could, her voice joining the voices of the other women in a song she didn’t know or understand, yet she felt it in her blood. She was vaguely aware of the drums beating faster and faster, as she and the other dancers also danced faster, spinning, twirling and weaving between each other in a wild dance of joy and something much less definable, something feral and primitive.

Faster and faster they danced, their voices rising until they reached the crescendo of sound and speed, with a Goblish roar, everyone stopped. Panting, her eyes still shut tightly, her body still humming like it was still spinning madly, Sarah felt something being placed on her head. A sharp flash of light burst behind her eyes and she felt the electric buzz of magic sizzling down her spine to wash across her body.

Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see Jareth standing before her, his hands outstretched. She reached up, feeling what he had placed on her head, to find something soft, like flower petals, twisted with something harder like wheat. Confused she heard the Goblyns around them roar their approval, some shouting, “Harvest Maid!”

Feeling the pulsing of the magic still running through his veins, Jareth was confused. The people were shouting about a harvest maid, but he had never chosen one, merely led the dance. It was the oldest single male’s rite to choose the harvest maid should the King decline – and he _always_ declined. Pulling the blindfold from his eyes, he blinked, his mouth falling open in shock. Standing before him was Sarah, he was sure of it and upon her head was a wreath of freshly cut wheat, billberries and poppies.

She had been crowned the Harvest Maid…and _he_ had done it.

“Sarah?” he murmured, reaching up to caress her cheek,  as if reassuring himself that the vision were real. “You’re…here…but…how?”

Sarah’s hand clasped his, holding it  gently to her cheek. “Jareth…don’t be angry. I’m sorry…I can explain….”

But she never got the chance. The dancers around her heard him say her name and like wildfire the call went through the group.

“It’s Sarah!! The King has crowned the Champion as Harvest Maid!! The Sarah has returned to us!!” they shouted.

Without warning she was snatched from Jareth’s caress and thrust back into the throng of wildly dancing bodies, overwhelmed at the thought that the Labyrinth Champion had returned to them.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/**

**_Translation:_ **

_Maygul tan walyun tarnishae:_ (Goblyn) May the wheel of the seasons continue to turn.

 _Goblyn rashgland nae burdona ma prayantarsh_ :  (Goblyn) “A Goblin Mate is not needed for me to show my prowess at pleasing a Goblyn woman.”

 _Magrash ult na Goburin en populate:_ May the Goblin Kingdom and her people prosper.

* * *

_**Please review.... they are clearly inspiring me to write faster :)** _

 


	8. To Strike a Bargain

**Author’s Note:** Wow…this story is *realllllly* under my skin, as is apparent by the quick creation of new chapters. I don’t know how much longer I will be able to keep up this pace. That said, this particular arc is nearly done, so it may taper off a bit until I dream up the next ‘big thing’ for this story. In the meantime, enjoy…and please review. I do love hearing what you think and what your favourite (or least favourite) bits are.

Warning… this chapter is not all ‘sunshine and roses’ but I promise it has a (very) happy ending.

Being Pixie, Jerra did not feel the call of the land and fire in her blood the way the others seemed to, which suited her just fine. She was happy sitting on the porch of the house, a large mug of Narran ale in her hand, as she played a most excellent string of winning tosses of Goblin Dice against Jaeme. Time moved differently on a night such as this. It was over two hours since the Goblin King began the dance, and still the dancers sang, spinning wildly around the snapping and crackling flames. Mothers with babes in arms had long-ago returned to the house, tucking their children to sleep in the large bedroom upstairs, then retreating to the fields with their mates. Even Leatha and Jaeme’s son was curled in his cradle upstairs, sleeping the sweet sleep of the newborn. Glancing up as Jaeme shook the dice cup, Jerra grinned at her friend, who was settled across her mate’s Jaeme’s lap, her arm wrapped around his neck. Nearby Mama Yana sat in a well-padded rocking chair, a mug of ale in her hand as she hummed along with the song from the bonfire.

“Honestly Jaeme…your luck is terrible,” Leatha teased, nibbling his ear and making him blush.

“Oi, rashglang…we have company still,” he muttered, tilting his head to tug his earlobe from between her teeth. He gave the cup another vigorous shake, before tossing the dice on the small table. Frowning he calculated the score, then groaned. Another losing toss.

Purring, Leatha wriggled in his lap and winked at Jerra. “Awww…you weren’t worried about the presence of company when you kept me in the field for two hours, causing me to miss the lovely feast that Mama Yana and the crones prepared.”

Jaeme blushed deeper, his sunburnt cheeks seeming to glow up into his hairline. “Yeah, well thas’ different, tha’ is.”

As Jerra reached over to scoop the dice into the cup once more, a great cheer went up from the bonfire. The group on the porch turned to look at the dancers who were still a moment, before chaos broke out. Dancers were swirling around madly again, but there was a new energy upon the air at their shouts of joy.

“The Sarah! She’s the Harvest Maid!”…. “Lugh has come! The Maid is crowned!”… “The Sarah! It’s really her!!”

Puzzled, Leatha looked at Jerra, “The Sarah? Was she here? But how? When did she arrive?”

Jaeme grinned and hugged his wife, “If The Sarah is at our farm and crowned as the Maiden, then we are truly blessed.”

Hearing their words, Jerra’s purple tinged skin blanched to white, as she fumbled the dice cup, spilling the carved bones onto the wooden floor of the porch, where they scattered, pinging wildly against the wall and the chair legs. “Goddess help us,” she murmured, pushing back her chair with such force that it toppled over, her pale eyes wide in panic. “Oh what have I done…??” she moaned, clutching a hand in her hair as she glanced toward the revelers, swirling and spinning around the bonfire once more.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

When he first saw Sarah wearing the Harvest Maid’s crown, Jareth’s immediate thought had been that it was just another trick of his mind answering the ache in his heart for the one who held his love oath. But when she twined her fingers in his, holding his hand against her cheek and spoke, all doubt was erased from his mind.

“Jareth…don’t be angry. I’m sorry…I can explain….” she whispered, fear shining in her emerald eyes, as her words seemed to tremble upon her lips.

Then she was snatched from his grasp once more. Just like when she shattered the glass bubble of the ballroom, and again when she declared that he had no power over her.

 _‘It’s rather infuriating how that keeps happening,_ ’ he grumbled to himself, still trying to process the fact that she had returned. Against all odds and expectation, Sarah had returned – in the guise of someone else. That thought burned him in a way that nearly consumed what happiness he found in her return. She had returned under a false name _and_ appeared so in his own court. The blasted girl seemed intent upon destroying him at every turn, first by beating the Labyrinth, then denying his offer, before challenging his power over her. Now here she was, making a fool of him in front of his entire kingdom. _‘And on a festival to uphold my sacred oath!_ ’ he roared inside.

Black and dark, the anger swirled up inside him, making his chest ache as the lines etched into his skin momentarily flickered with inky blackness. Curling his gloved hands into tight fists, his eyes flashed amber while the pupils dilated, until owl eyes peered from beneath the steeply arched eyebrows of the King – predatory eyes tracing the path of the dancing witch.

 _‘She’s no mere girl anymore,_ ’ whispered a voice deep inside him. _‘A girl wouldn’t react the way she did last night.’_

His anger at her betrayals dulled for a moment as he considered the way she had grabbed him of her own free will, pulling him in for her lips to capture his. With a feral growl, the Goblin King shook his head, his pupils dilating further as his predatory nature took over, scanning the swirling dancers to find the lying creature. _‘She played me… and I let her do it,’_ he thought, the anger slowly creeping along the deep orange lines on his body, until they too were flecked with black.

Dancing wildly around the flames, the Goblyn revelers shouted their glad news to the sky -- “The Sarah is our Harvest Maid. Long live Lugh and his love!”

 _‘Love! Hah! That wench knows nothing of love. She is a vile vixen and I will rid my kingdom of her influence,’_ he roared inwardly, just as his eyes caught sight of her. Slowing his breath, Jareth let his owlish nature take hold, his eyes tracking the brunette as she sang and spun through the dancers. _‘Heartless wench!’_

Even as his anger growled and snapped within him, demanding to see her strung up in the deepest, darkest dungeon cell, a small part of him knew that she was dancing and singing not to taunt him, but because the magic of the night and the land had infused her. Deep down he knew her human body could not fully manage the amount of magic she had been exposed to. Despite his anger, he felt a small niggle, an infinitesimal but growing feeling of protectiveness toward her. _‘If I don’t get her out of the magical circle soon, she’ll end up ill from the withdrawal when the moon goes dark,’_ he grumbled to himself. _‘Blasted woman won’t even realize that I am doing her yet another favor.’_

Waiting patiently, the Goblin King counted the beats of the music as his own heartbeat, biding his time until Sarah danced blindly near him. With her eyes shut and head thrown back, she sang out the ancient Goblyn words, her hands linked with those around her. In a flash he was beside her, his warm twining like steel around her back. “Excuse us, but the Harvest Maiden and I things to discuss,” he said, his tone cool, even as he smiled at the Goblyns dancing with Sarah.

The feel of the hard arm twining around her waist jerked Sarah from the dance, making her gasp. Seeing Jareth and hearing his cold words, her stomach dropped and she trembled from head to toe. One minute she was dancing without a care in the world, and the next she felt herself being marched toward the cottage, her body tucked so tightly against the Goblin King’s that she felt the heat of his body searing against hers.

“Jareth…I…” she stammered, her heart fluttering in her chest like a frightened animal at his cold demeanor.

“Not. One. Word,” he hissed, giving her the barest of glances. Trembling, she opened her mouth to try again, only to be cut off with icy words and a glare to match. “Girl…you don’t know the trouble you’ve caused or understand the trouble you are now in. Don’t defy me!”

Snapping her mouth shut, Sarah felt tears stinging against her eyelashes, prickling uncomfortably as she fought to contain them.

 _‘I’m dead. Gods above… the Goblin King is going to kill me,’_ she thought, the icy fingers of panic twining themselves around her chest until she gasped for air.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Puzzled by the pixie’s sudden terror at the news about The Sarah, Mama Yana leaned forward, her wizened face pinched with concern. “What ails thee, girl?”

“He knows she’s here. You have to help me hide her. We have to protect her,” Jerra moaned, grabbing Mama Yana’s hand. The old woman could feel the girl’s hands shaking, even as she pleaded with her. “Please… we’ve got to find her… escape… Above…. He won’t know…” she muttered, her thoughts rushing together in her fear.

“What are you talking about child,” Yana asked. “Hide who?”

“Charlotte…I mean Sarah,” Jerra said, fretfully twisting her hands as she glanced once more at the fire, then started for the stairs leading down from the porch. “I must find her. We have to escape before he finds her.”

“Who?” demanded the Jaeme on his feet now. Leatha clung to his hand, her amber eyes as confused as his own.

“The Goblin King!” Jerra moaned. “Sarah was afraid to come to court for fear of his hatred of her. So…I found someone to help us with a glamour potion. The maker swore it would hold until the dark of the moon tomorrow night.”

A slow laugh started up, as Mama Yana cackled quietly from her chair. “Silly girls. Fae magic can’t compete with the full force of the festival _and_ the magic of the land. If tis true that the King, channeling Lugh, crowned the glamoured Sarah, then tis ancient magic that cancelled the glamour.” Rising from her chair, the old crone shook her head, her stooped shoulders shaking from her laughter. “Daft children dabbling in things they ought not to.”

“Please! I beg of you… he’ll send us to the mines. Help me find her and get her away,” Jerra practically sobbed, clutching at Jaeme’s hand, not noticing when his eyes widened as he looked over her shoulder toward the porch steps. “We must escape.....”

 “Don’t bother attempting to flee, traitorous wench…”growled a cold voice from behind her. “I have your partner in crime here and I think it is high time we have a proper chat -- Now that I know who I’m actually dealing with.”

Hearing the angry words of the King, Jerra squeaked in surprise, spinning around. She gave one look at the dark countenance and furious glare of the Goblin King, then dropped to her knees, her forehead practically upon Jareth’s boot.

“Are you going to throw us in the dungeon?” Jerra whimpered.

At the same time Sarah sniffed, “Please, not the bog!”

“Have mercy, Sire…”

“I’m sorry, Jareth… really I can….”

The pixie and the human babbled frantically in their fear, causing the muscle in the Goblin King’s jaw to tick irritably in time with his heartbeat. Around him, his magic buzzed in the air, the sound akin to a million angry bees. As one, Leatha, Jaeme and Mama Yana edged back from their King, watching him warily.

“Enough!” he hissed, through gritted teeth. “As much as I might like to drop you both into an oubliette for what you’ve done, I refuse to cast a pall upon the festivities by leaving before the full moon has risen. And thanks to _Sarah_ being crowned the Harvest Maiden, I actually _can’t_ do either of those things without reneging on my oath to the Labyrinth.” Stooping he grabbed Jerra’s shirt and hauled her bodily to her feet. The faint sound of threads popping could be heard beneath his glove, twisted tightly into the thin fabric. “Get. In. The. House,” he ordered, marching the frightened women forward. With a bang, the door slammed open before they reached it. Jareth never slowed; his grip on the two woman firm until he stopped in front of a well-worn sofa set beneath the picture window overlooking the bonfire, where the dancers still twirled on, oblivious to what was transpiring in the house. Releasing them, the Goblin King stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, the lines etched in his skin flickering black and dull orange. “Sit!” he barked, the icy tone in his voice sending a shudder through both girls.

Turning to look at him, Jerra opened her mouth, only to be silenced by the pitch black eyes of the Goblin King, his lips set in a stern line. His eyes burning a dark hole through her, the Goblin King glared at the pixie, even as she shrank back, her calves hitting the front of the sofa.

“You _lied_ to me in my office and then knowing I planned to pardon you and this… _witch_ … you committed fraud…in front of my entire **COURT**!” he roared, the sound making the furniture in the parlor vibrate with the energy that crackled from his words and body. “You’d best hold your tongue until I’m ready to hear from you. Now…sit!”

Gulping, Jerra dropped onto the sofa, as Sarah sat down numbly next to her, reaching over and clasping the pixie’s shaking hand in her own. Unable to bear the horrible anger upon his face, Sarah’s eyes dropped to the floor, never straying higher than the Goblin King’s ankles, taking in the scuffs and dirt that marred their surface from the day’s manual labor.

“Jaeme, take Leatha to the fire. Keep the others there,” Jareth said, his eyes locked upon the young women in front of him. “I want no one to disturb us.”

Jaeme reached for Leetha’s hand, finding it clammy and trembling. He squeezed it gently, then gave a brief nod of his head. “Yes, Sire.” Turning to his wife, he wrapped his arm around her and guided her from the doorway of the house, “Come love. There is nothing we can do to help them,” he murmured gently.

Arching an eyebrow at the Goblin King’s actions, Mama Yana patted Leatha’s arm as Jaeme led her past. “Rest easy, child. No harm will come to them.” Without another word, the old crone entered the house with the Goblin King and the girls, shutting the door firmly behind her and drawing down the curtains.

Inside the house, the Goblin King stared at the two women on the sofa. Sarah sat mute, staring unseeing at his boots, while Jerra hung her head, her slender fingers twisting fretfully in the fringe of her belt. Hearing the sound of a baby’s cry, Jareth glanced toward the stairs. Without being bid to, the old crone made her way to the stairs. “Aye, I’ll see to the youngun’s, Sire.”

The house was silent except for the groaning of the steps and the old woman while she slowly made her way to the upper floor. As she climbed, the Goblin King pulled a shimmering crystal from the air and let it float gently to the ceiling, watching as it grew and grew until it had formed a bubble that stretched from one wall of the room to the other and covered the ceiling and floor – effectively encasing the three of them within a private room of crystal.

No sound could be heard within the crystalline bubble, save for the steady ticking of the clock upon the mantel, and the panicked breathing of the two young women sitting as still as statues upon the sofa. With a low growl, the Goblin King began to pace in front of the fireplace, his boot heels clicking sharply upon the worn wooden floor. Suddenly he slammed his fist against the wall, a puff of plaster dust rising in the air, while splinters of wood cascaded to the floor. Not looking at the women on the sofa, he shook his head, the feathery wisps tipped with black the same color as the inky blackness that tinged the lines on his flesh.

“I don’t believe it… five years…five years! And not a word from you, Sarah…and now this?! You have no idea what a position you’ve put me in, do you?” Pulling his hand from the wall, the Goblin King resumed pacing, his words a feral growl that made the walls of the bubble vibrate. “Sure, I’m relieved you found your way back to my kingdom safely, but this…this is beyond the pale!”

For the first time since Jareth began his tirade, Sarah dared look up, blinking dumbly at him. Waving his arm, he ran a gloved hand through his hair, lost in his own thoughts and apparently unaware of the admission he just made.

“You came into my court, under an assumed identity and I _pardoned_ you! You’ve made a fool out of me, Sarah! Not only that, but you’ve made me look weak for not seeing through whatever magic you used to pull this off.” As he paced the orange in the lines upon his body faded, the lines taking on a solid black hue. “And now that your treachery is known…to the whole of the kingdom I might add…I have no choice but to hand down a formal ruling and suitable punishment for it!”

Feeling a lump in her chest, Sarah swallowed heavily, her voice cracking when she spoke. “We’re sorry, Jareth…”

Whirling toward the sofa, Jareth pointing a gloved finger at Sarah, his eyes pure black in his anger, so that Sarah felt for an instant that she was staring into the depth of eternity – and it was bleak. “ ** _You_** lost the right to call me by name when I learned of your treachery!” Throwing his head back and clenching his eyes shut, his hand fell to his side, curling in a tight fist. For several long moments that seemed to stretch for hours in Sarah’s mind, the Goblin King remained unmoving except for the deep, slow breaths that gently moved his chest. She could see the twitching of the muscles across his chest and arms, momentarily fascinated by the sinewy strength of the man.

 _‘The man who is about to throw you in a dungeon for whatever is left of your life’_ her inner-self reminded her.

“I fail to understand why you felt the need to lie to me in the first place. If you had only come to me, Sarah… we could have worked things out. But no, you had to go behind my back and lie!”

“Um…look at your reaction now. I’d say that answers your question, right there,” Sarah muttered, then cringed when his black eyes found hers, the steeply arched eyebrows of the High Fae narrowing until they nearly met upon his forehead.

“Choose your words _very_ wisely, girl,” he snarled, his tone deadly.

Sarah squeezed Jerra’s hand, feeling her friend tremble and cringe away from the angry Fae in front of them. A wave of fierce protectiveness washed over Sarah. This was her fault and if anyone would be punished, it wouldn’t be Jerra. Sitting up straight upon the faded sofa, her emerald eyes met his, even as she felt fear coursing through her veins. “I…I was afraid you’d hurt Jerra if her partner didn’t show up and I didn’t want you to see me because I know you hate me for what I did.”

The steeply arched eyebrows fell at that, leaving the Goblin King tilting his head as his eyes narrowed questioningly upon her face. “I hate you? Wherever did you get that idea?”

Gulping, Sarah licked her lower lip before finding her voice, her words squeaking a bit as she forced them out. “I destroyed the city and at least one room in your castle. You had to be angry and hate me for it, because when you found out about the mirror portal you closed it!”

The sound of bitter laughter rang in the enclosed bubble, leaving Sarah and Jerra cringing further away from the Goblin King.

“Found out about it? I created it! I always knew it existed,” the Goblin King yelled, waving his arms in frustration. In the next instant he was pacing again, as if he wished to wear a groove into the floor in front of the fireplace. “As the Champion of the Labyrinth you needed the connection to remain open as long as possible to solidify your bond with the Labyrinth. The portal was closed because you turned 18 and became an adult in your world. That is the law of the our land. From that point on, you had to find your own way back to us if and when you were ready to…or could.”

Like a chastised child, Sarah’s gaze slid back to the Goblin King’s boots, her shoulders slumping a bit. “Oh…” she mumbled, while her mind raced in confusion, trying to grasp all that he said.

“Let me reassure you, _Precious_ ,” he sneered, glowering sternly at the top of her head, “You didn’t destroy the city, just the area by the barracks…which gets destroyed by the goblins several times a year. And as for my castle, the Room of Broken Dreams always falls apart like that. It is an _illusion_!”

Sniffing softly, Sarah shrunk down further, her hand clasping Jerra’s tight enough that her knuckles were white. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so softly her words could barely be heard over the Goblin King’s agitated breaths and the ticking clock on the mantel.

“Sorry won’t fix the mess you’ve created, Sarah. You can’t even _imagine_ the ridiculous position you’ve put me in,” Jareth growled, as he slammed his fist down upon the mantel, making the clock bounce with the force of the impact. “I _have_ to punish you both for the fact that you essentially committed fraud in front of the crown…in OPEN COURT! I can’t pardon you twice or I will appear weak, but punishing you is just as bad,” he snapped, his voice mimicking a weak falsetto as he continued, “Hello kingdom…Sarah is back as my consort oh, and by the way, she’ll be spending the next 5 years in the dungeon for crimes against the crown. Happy Harvest!” he laughed bitterly.

Sarah’s head snapped up and she blinked dumbstruck at his words. Beside her Jerra’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open in surprise.

“Consort?” Jerra gasped, slowly swiveling her head to look at Sarah. Confusion flashed in Sarah’s eyes, then faded just as fast. Her eyes narrowing, she rose from the sofa, wagging her finger at the Goblin King as she approached.

“Hold up there Goblyn Boy! What’s this consort business?” she demanded, stopping just in front of him, until they were nearly touching.

Glaring down at her, the Goblin King growled. “You’re my wife, so of course you’d be granted the title of consort…. “ Pausing he shrugged, briefly looking pensive. “Granted, you _could_ petition the Labyrinth to for the right to become Queen. She seems to like you.”

Sarah jabbed a finger into the Goblin King’s bare chest, drawing his attention back to her. The feeling of the raised black line sendt a sudden jolt of energy through her that made her head spin, but didn’t quench the anger that roared through her at his words.

“Whoa! I think your tight pants are cutting off the blood to your brain, _Oh Mighty Tightness!_ I am _not_ your wife,” she shouted, flinging an arm back to point at Jerra, the gesture making her friend shrink back against the corner of the sofa as if to become invisible. “Jerra told me what a Goblyn wedding entails and we are _not_ married, buddy! I mean, yeah you fed me and we drank from the lover’s cup…but we weren’t blessed by a Goblin Druid.”

From the landing upon the stairs, came a cackling laugh. In unison they whipped their heads in the direction of the stairs, seeing Mama Yana sitting on a step, her ancient eyes crinkling merrily as she laughed. “I’m happy to bless you two now if you’ll stop this yelling and growling, and take to the fields to work out your issues out like proper Goblyn Rashglang.”

A low warning snarl rumbled in the Goblin King’s throat, “A retroactive blessing is not acceptable and you know it, crone. I have no Rashglang, nor will I take one!”

“Silly boy. She’s perfect for you,” laughed Yana, leaning heavily on her walking stick and ignoring the Goblin King’s implied threat. “And don’t you forget who you’re talking to, Jarentha-dan. I gave you your Goblyn name, child.”

The Goblin King’s demeanor thawed a bit at her rebuke, his eyes softening as he gave the slightest incline of his head in her direction. For her part, the exchange was lost on Sarah, who was still fired up about the idea of being married to the Goblin King in the first place.

“Hah! Like I’d want to be bound to him anyway?! Pochara, pactelic peacara! (Pompous prancing peacock).” Turning her attention back to Jareth, Sarah jabbed him in the chest with her finger so hard he flinched. “So what were you were trying to do, huh? Bind me to you without my consent? All you lacked was what a…a…blessing?! And all that after you gave me your _oath_ you wouldn’t misuse my trust?! How can I trust you now?”

Throwing his hands up in frustration, the Goblin King roared back at the harpy currently stabbing him with her finger. “I wasn’t _trying_ to marry you without your consent! I was trying to be **_nice_** to a woman I thought was attractive and interesting to be around – only it turns out that woman didn’t exist in the first place!” Jareth’s eyes narrowed as he advanced upon Sarah, forcing her back several steps with each jab of his gloved finger against the soft swell of exposed breast peeking over the top of her bodice. “Besides _that_ , it wasn’t **_me_** who managed to effectively marry us, but **_you_**!”

“I did no such thing!” Sarah retorted, her stance widening slightly as she crossed her arms against her chest, standing her ground against the force of him.

The Goblin King towered over her now, his anger pushing down upon her in the same way his body screamed to have her pressed against him in the field. The more they shouted at each other, the more his Goblyn instinct clamored to drag her to the fields, roaring that she was the perfect Goblyn rashglang.

“Did you or did you not step willingly into the bonfire circle to join the dancing?” the Goblin King demanded, his voice dropping until it was as deadly as the sharpest blade.

Sarah’s face pinched at his words, her gaze falling from his face, to his chest, then to Mama yana who was still sitting upon the stairs, watching the shouting match with a great deal of amusement.

“Well…yeah…but I wasn’t the only one.”

Shaking his head, Jareth’s eyes rolled skyward. “Infuriating woman,” he muttered under his breath, then pinned her with a steely glare that made her step back once more, only to land back upon the sofa. “Did you stop to think that there was a reason that none of the other dancers were couples, spouses or _mates_? That they were all _single_?”

“What…does that have….” Sarah began, then her jaw snapped shut with an audible click. A knowing chuckle rumbled in Jareth’s chest as he watched her eyes widen. Lifting her eyes to his, she gave a faint shake of her head.“Oh…Oh no….you can’t mean….”

“Ahh…. Just like when you wished Toby away, you rushed into something without thinking it through!” Mocking her he gave a dark laugh that rang with bitterness despite the triumphant smirk that curled the corners of his lips. “You willingly stepped into a Goblin dance, led by a member of the High Fae court -- making it a fairy ring. You did this during the full-moon of a fire festival, in a land that you know was observing an Ancient Rite. And you didn’t _think_ that _maybe_ things weren’t as they seemed?!”

Hanging her head, Sarah clasped her trembling hands in her lap, cringing at each of his words as if they were a physical blow. One by one crystalline drops started to roll down the slope of her nose, dropping onto the sapphire material and leaving dark navy spots in their place. “No…I didn’t…” she mumbled.

“What’s that, Sarah? Kindly make sure that Mama Yana heard you…her hearing isn’t as good as it once was,” he sneered maliciously at her.

“I…I didn’t think,” she whispered again, giving a frightened cry as he roared.

“That’s **_right_** …you never think, Sarah! And your actions _always_ have consequences for others – not like you seem to care about _that_ , you selfish child!”

Sniffling, Sarah clutched the sleeve of her dress in her shaking hand and scrubbed her eyes with it, trying in vain to stop the flow of tears. “So…just…I don’t know… Can’t you just uncrown me…Or go out there and choose another Harvest Maid?”

“I can’t!” he yelled, turning and hurling a barrage of crystals into the fireplace.

The sound of glass shattering violently against brick hurt Sarah’s ears until she clapped her hands over them, an anguished sob bursting from her throat. She was dimly aware of a warm arm wrapping around her, and Jerra’s body pressed tight to hers, shaking in her own fear.

Silence fell still across the room. The Goblin King didn’t move, nor speak for some time, before he turned and looked at the cringing women on the sofa. All of the anger seemed to have gone out of him in that instant. His eyes were no longer black, but they weren’t their usual crystalline blue. He looked at them with dull grey eyes that lacked any of the luster ordinarily associated with one of High Fae birth. Similarly, the black faded from the lines that crossed his flesh, but the warm orange didn’t return. Instead the lines pulsed weakly with a dusty grey, giving him an ashen appearance, like a body that was dead, but hadn’t yet discovered that fact.

“It isn’t that simple, Sarah,” he said, his voice quiet, a melancholy tenor to it. “By joining the dance you agreed to the consequences of your actions. You agreed to accept the terms of the magical contract should you be chosen.”

Puzzled by the sudden change in Jareth’s mood, Sarah nibbled her lip, half wondering if he would begin shouting again, or if he’d actually strike her in his anger. In the end, her curiosity and sheer stubbornness got the better of her. “What if I refuse?”

Jareth turned away from her at her words, laying both hands on the mantel, while Sarah was surprised by the outright horrified looks that both Mama Yana and Jerra were giving her.

“Um…What if I choose not to be the Harvest Maid,” she asked again, an icy feeling taking root in her stomach. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was somehow certain that she was not going to like the answer.

“Then you would leave me no choice, but to imprison you until you comply,” the Goblin King replied, hanging his head as he leaned against the mantel. His words were not cold or angry, rather they hinted at a heart that was breaking.

“You…you wouldn’t…Please, Jareth. I’m sorry.”

The Goblin King shook his head, his shoulders slumping further in defeat. His words were quiet when he turned toward her once more and spoke, like a parent patiently explaining something dire to an obstinate child. “Sarah… you dabble in magic, but you do not take seriously the laws and rules that underpin it. You being crowned as the Harvest Maid placed both of us into a magical contract with each other and the land. For a year and a day we are bound as husband and wife. Thankfully it is symbolic in many ways. We do not have to cohabitate, in fact you can remain Above for the most part. And there is no requirement for intimacy, but the other rules of an Underground hand-fasting apply, neither of us may be alone with a member of the opposite sex until the time is up. All major Underground holidays and feast days are to be observed _together_ , here in the Underground. If we fail to honor the contract in any way, even something small, it becomes void – and that would be disastrous.”

“So how does imprisoning me and forcing me into this solve anything?” Sarah muttered, immediately flinching at the dark look the Goblin King gave her.

“Because it is not just the well-being of the kingdom that is at stake you selfish child!” he hissed, then immediately seemed to wilt a bit, the lines on his body fading altogether until it was as if they had never been there. Hanging his head, his words rustled like brittle bones crumbling to dust, “It isn’t just about the kingdom… My life is also at stake.”

Three sets of eyes looked on in shock, as the Goblin King looked down, lightly running a hand over the twisted lines of the triskellion upon his chest.

“As part of my oath to the Labyrinth, I swore upon my own life that I would always uphold the festivals and the Ancient Rites. We both danced around the bonfire. Whether you understood the purpose of the dance is irrelevant Sarah. As far as the magic of the land is concerned, you were a willing participant in the ceremony. You were crowned. If you refuse to participate, then the Kingdom will fall to ruin and my life is forfeit. It is as simple as that.”

Sarah gazed at him, her green eyes shimmering with horrified tears at what he was saying – all the while her mind screamed that there must be a way to fix things.

Overhead, the full moon slipped from behind the clouds, illuminating the valley in cool light. Seeing the moonlight shimmering under the edge of the curtains that blocked the window behind the sofa, Jareth sighed.

“Even though you care nothing for my life, I would hope that you would think to spare the lives of your friends and my subjects, who have done nothing but honor and love you since you bested me,” he said, all anger gone from him now. He looked and sounded, like the broken man he now was, knowing that his kingdom and life were now in the hands of the one person who seemed bent on destroying him.

Quiet footfalls carried him to the door at the back of the parlor. The Goblin King snapped his fingers as he opened the door, a faint ‘popping’ sound echoing through the room when the bubble burst, leaving no trace that it had ever been there. With his back to the women in the room, Jareth paused, then glanced slightly over his shoulder, not meeting their eyes. “The moon has risen. My purpose at the bonfire has been served, so I will take my leave now. Alesander will bring a copy of the marriage contract to your rooms, Sarah, and Sir Didymus will be along in the morning to act as your legal advisor in the matter. He will be able to answer any questions you may have and counsel you. Send word to me by noon of what your decision will be. I will need time to prepare a statement for my kingdom prior to the start of the closing court at 6.”

Without another word, Jareth walked out of the house, the cheerful yellow door swinging shut with a muted ‘click’.

No one spoke.

Three sets of eyes stared at the door, each woman lost in thought over what they had witnessed and heard in the protected bubble. Sarah’s mind was a whirlwind of thought and emotion. He didn’t hate her. But he’d imprison her if she didn’t go through with the contract. But she didn’t know about the contract. Perhaps it was a trick? To what end? The Fae couldn’t be trusted, could they? But Jareth said he was more Goblyn than High Fae. She couldn’t let her friends die. And apparently the Labyrinth liked her.

And then there was the matter of Jareth. _‘Could I really sentence Jareth and the kingdom to death?’_ she wondered, until she felt the heavy cold that seemed to settle around her heart at the thought.

With a sob, Sarah launched herself from the sofa and rushed to the door, jerking it open so hard several brightly painted teacups shook loose from the shelf they sat upon, falling to shatter on the hard wooden floor.

“Jareth…um…Your Majesty…wait!” she called into the moonlit night, then darted out the door, pulling it shut behind her. “Please?”

Through the moonlight she could make out a path of pebbles leading from the back steps down toward the forest glade. A bit along the path was a shadowy figure who stopped at her call. Sarah’s boots crunched upon the tiny pebbles, as she ran up the path toward him, then stopped, panting slightly. Slowly the Goblin King turned around to face her, his eyes hollow. In the moonlight the lines in his skin took on a glowing grey appearance, but the joyful color and pulsing they had show all day was gone.

Seeing Sarah following him from the house, Jareth felt his heart sink. He’d made a horrible muddle of everything and he knew it. He’d let his anger get the better of him and yelled at her. Worse still, he had roared at her in such a way that she physically flinched, as if he had struck her. Just the memory of that moment made his chest ache with wanting to throw himself at her feet and beg her forgiveness – but he could not. He was a King and although he might hate himself for what he had done and said to her, in the end her carelessness would cost him his kingdom, his people and his life. He had every right to be angry.

He only hoped for one last kiss from her lips before his life was made forfeit. If the Fates had any compassion, surely they’d allow that.

Silently he watched her, a defeated man awaiting the sentence to be passed down to the executioner – and his executioner now stood before him, nibbling her lip and reaching toward his chest. Dead eyes watched as she hesitated, a hairs-breath from actually touching the faintly pulsing swirls upon his chest.

 “Do…do they hurt?” she asked, pulling her hand away and fidgeting timidly with the woven lace belt around her hips. “The way they glow?”

Jareth tilted his head slightly, puzzled by her question in light of everything they had said – no shouted…at each other.

“No, Sarah,” he replied, his tone gentle. “They are my lines of king-ship, given to me by the Labyrinth when she accepted my oath to her.”

“And they are dull now because….”

His breath caught in his throat at the nearness of her. Slowly and gently, he reached out and guided her hand away from her belt. Cupping her hand in his, he brought it toward him, guiding her finger to trace the starting point of the triskellion upon his chest. At the first touch of her finger, they both gasped, an almost audible sizzle of energy racing between them -- strong enough that Sarah snatched her hand away, looking at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Feeling his last hope fading, Jareth turned away from her once more, his words somber. “They are fading because the Labyrinth knows you wish to forfeit on the marriage contract. She is reacting to that and her fear that the famine and strife will return,” he murmured, flinching slightly when he felt her timid touch, the jolt of energy shared between less shocking this time. “And she is reacting to the fact that if you refuse to stand by the contract, then my oath to her will be broken, through no fault of my own. She and I have an understanding… she does not wish to claim my life as that will bring her pain, but she will do it to protect her people.”

In the distance the sounds of Goblyn song could be heard, the joy and hope in the words standing in stark contrast to the crushing melancholy which seemed to weigh down upon the two of them. Silently Jareth stood there, feeling Sarah tracing the faint grey lines on his back. It was the first time since he had been made king that he had allowed a woman he desired to see them, let alone touch them. Shutting his eyes, he felt a shiver run through him at the gentle touch, trying desperately to stifle a shuddering sigh of longing and sadness – and failing.

The two were silent in the moonlight, the only sound either made being two synchronous intakes of breath, followed by synchronous exhalation. Without a word Sarah traced the winding lines upon his skin. Around and around her finger went, eventually leading her to stand in front of him as her finger traced it’s way to the center of the design, right above his heart. She stared at her finger, still touching his chest, drinking in the way his heart beat steadily beneath it, the rhythm soothing to her aching heart.

“I don’t hate you either, Jareth,” she murmured, slowly spreading her hand out and laying her palm over his heart.

Surprised at the action, Jareth covered her hand with his own, his eyes narrowing in wonder.

“I don’t want you to die…or the kingdom. But…before I can agree, you have to promise me something.”

Giving the hand over his heart a gentle squeeze, Jareth nodded. “Anything, that is in my power to grant, it is yours, Sarah.”

Slowly she lifted her head, until her tearful eyes met his once more. Seeing the tears glimmering in her eyes and the tracks of those already shed marring her cheeks, he wanted to enfold her in his arms and kiss the away, but he dared not move.

“Promise me this is not some scheme to get revenge or hurt me.”

Hurt by her words, he cringed, the pain almost physical. Stepping back with his right foot, the Goblin King silently dropped to one knee before her, Sarah’s hand falling away from his chest as he took it in his, the gloves that had covered his hands disappearing.

Sarah shivered at the sight of the Goblin King on his knee before her, gazing in surprise at the sight of his bare hands. As he cradled her hand in his, a faint orange color began to spread through them, slowly tracing the etched lines that marked him and bound him to his oath with the Labyrinth. Looking up at her, Jareth’s eyes showed no guile or deceit, instead shimmering with some deeper emotion that took Sarah’s breath away.

“Sarah, you have my oath…in ways you cannot even begin to imagine,” he murmured, his eyes locked upon hers. “I swear to you, the contract was not of my doing, but an artifact of the fire festival magic and the land itself. You will come to no harm at my hand through accepting the contract. Nor will I break any previous oath I gave to you.”

Blinking back tears, Sarah nodded, the feeling of his bare hands cradling hers overwhelming in the simple intimacy of it. “Okay. I’ll honor the contract and the ancient pact.”

At her words, Jareth gave a tremendous sigh, pressing his lips to her hand, then holding it to his cheek.

Once upon a time Sarah would have loved to see the Goblin King taken down a few pegs and groveling at her feet, but now that she had him down there, she decided that it didn’t feel very good. In fact, it made her decidedly uncomfortable.

“Come on, get up, Jareth,” she muttered, trying to tug her hand free in the hope that might get him to stand.

“As my Queen commands,” he replied, rising, but still holding her hand.

Pursing her lips, Sarah quirked an eyebrow in his direction and rolled her eyes. “About this Queen stuff…” she began.

“Would you prefer consort? Technically the wife of the king is automatically a consort, so that would be perfectly appropriate too.”

Sarah bit her lip, trying to stifle a giggle at the wickedly cheeky smirk he was giving her. Given the anger, rage and sadness she had seen him express through the course of the evening, she was relieved to see the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. Unable to help herself, she giggled, shaking her head as she tried once more to free her hand from his – but he wasn’t having any of it.

“How do you feel about the title of ‘Concubine to the Goblin King’. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” he teased.

Snickering, Sarah felt her insides flutter as they had the night before when he made such comments and her libido crowed triumphantly. She gave him a nudge with her shoulder, finally succeeding in freeing her hand, as she turned and walked up the path leading around the side of the house. Pausing, she peeked coquettishly over her shoulder and winked at him, “Oh, I don’t know… I think I prefer ‘The Goblin King… willing concubine to the Labyrinthian Witch Queen.”

For a split second Sarah thought Jareth might actually fall over with shock from her words, his mouth hanging open in an ‘O’.  Seeing him completely dumbstruck was a moment she’d never forget. Then in the next instant his positively evil smirk was back in place, as his pale eyes flickered brightly in the moonlight.

“I can live with that, little witch.” Without warning he rushed toward her, his laugh ringing out across the valley. Squealing, Sarah turned and ran toward the bonfire, with the Goblin King quickly gaining on her. “Come, little Goblyn Witch. Let’s seal our pact with a kiss….” he called after her, darting to the side as she turned sharply toward the wheat field instead. “Oh…ho!!!…Excellent idea! To the fields we go!”

“Jareth…no!” yelped Sarah, as he caught her, throwing her bodily over his shoulder and marching toward the fields, with Sarah pounding upon his back which was glowing with warm orange lines once more. “No…we can’t! Not the fields…anywhere but there!”

“Oh ho!! Anywhere, she says? You really are Goblyn aren’t you?” Jareth gave her bum a light swat as he carried her toward the field, relishing the surprised squeak she gave. Squealing and squirming she struggled, until he swatted her a bit harder. “Hold still wench or I’ll drop you on your blasted head.”

Stilling on his shoulder, Sarah lightly ran her finger along the kingmaking lines, her eyes lighting up at the sharp intake of breath from Jareth and the way he seemed to shiver. “Paxuan?” she murmured softly, wondering briefly at how the word came to her lips, when she didn’t speak Goblyn.

“Speak, Goblyn witch,” he replied, his voice hoarse with a sudden burst of need that rushed through him at her touch and words.

“No fields…not tonight. But… more dancing and a kiss to seal our pact.”

The Goblin King held her still upon his shoulder for several minutes, with neither moving or speaking, before nodding. “Acceptable.” Gently set her down, letting her body slide slowly down the length of his chest, until she was standing in front of him, chest to chest, his arms like steel around her back. “You know, if you wanted a kiss, you could have just agreed to my original offer, little witch.”

“True, but where would the fun be in that?” Sarah asked, then reached up and pulled him down to her lips, her fingers threading into the hair upon the side of his head. Growling the Goblin King returned her kiss, while his Goblyn instincts howled their approval.

From the porch, Mama Yana shook her head, leaning heavily on her walking stick as she settled back in her rocking chair, her keen eyes watching the Goblin King and the Harvest Maiden sealing their temporary marriage with a kiss under the careful watch of the moon and stars.

 “The sooner those two claim each other as Rashglang, the happier they’ll be,” she muttered, toasting the full-moon with her mug of ale.

“I give them until Samhain,” Jaeme said, dropping three copper praxils upon the table next to the empty dice cup.

“Nah…Yule will get them nice and cozy in the snow,” giggled Jerra, adding her coins to the pile.

“No, she’ll make him work for it,” murmured Leatha, curling up in Jaeme’s lap as she dropped three praxils and a crystal pyrite on the pile. “I predict that by Beltane they’ll be properly wedded, bedded and mated – with a babe on the way by the time the current contract expires.”

The wizened crones grin broadened and she cackled. “I want in on that bet.”

“Oh, old woman? What do you have to add?” asked Jaeme, eyeing her with interest.

Mama Yana pulled a small purple pouch from her shawl and dropped it heavily on the table. “Not one babe, but three.”

** Author’s Note: **

While I *could* end this story here, I think my regular readers might form a lynch mob since they didn’t get the smut they are used to. So, despite the fact that this would be a perfectly darling way to end the story…I will resist that urge and continue writing on this story – provided my readers wish me to *lol*


	9. Interludes

**Author's Note:** This chapter was much harder to write than I expected. It is made up of shorter scenes that felt 'necessary' to the plot, and move the plot along. That said, they are (I think) a tad disjointed. The next chapter will get us back to UST central :) The next chapter to be posted will be another chapter of the revised 'Love Potion No. 9'. If you haven't seen 'Lucifer' you can watch it via Hulu (I binged watched the whole first season in one day! Tom Ellis is sexy as hell and I could SOOOO see he and Jareth being related!).

As always, please review. I do love hearing what parts of chapters make you laugh or feel sad :))

* * *

**Ch. 9 Interludes**

For hours the celebration at the Glynisfyre farm raged on. Goblyns sang and danced around the bonfire, while still others took to the fields to consummate their mating claims or renew old claims. Those not dancing or mating, lounged beneath the pavilion eating, drinking and entertaining themselves with stories and games. All around the farm, the ancient magic of the land swirled around them, energizing the revelers while at the same time seeming to pull the valley out of the natural flow of time, into the hidden moments between a single heart beat.

Leaning back a bit on the wood pile upon which he was perched, Jareth smiled quietly as he watched the dancers, much as an indulgent father might watch his children at play. These were his subjects and he relished their joy during celebrations like this. True, he could be a hard king when it was necessary, but on the whole he merely wanted for his kingdom to be prosperous and his people to be happy.

With the moon hanging still overhead, Jareth felt the power still thrumming through his blood, as if every part of his being was vibrating. Despite dancing for hours through the circle with Sarah and the others, he was not tired – and from the joyous shouts, singing and dancing around the fire, no one else was either. It was always that way when the magic took hold. Whatever field or farm he visited for the solstice, the reaction of the people was the same. The magic infused them, until they felt a small taste of what he felt through every festival. Being of the Underground and more attuned to magic, they would suffer no ill effect from the temporary magical 'overdose'. And espite the amount of alcohol consumed, there wouldn't be so much as the teeniest niggle of a hangover for them tomorrow. Their muscles might feel pleasantly sore, but no other harm would come of it. In fact, the only long lasting effect of having the Goblin King join the celebration as the conduit between the land, then magic and the people, would be an increase in the number of births in the area in twelve months time – less for the non-Goblyn women.

Catching sight of a swath of brunette hair flying like a pennant amidst the throng of dancers, Jareth smiled, feeling the strange vibration in his chest once more. Sarah was still dancing with wild abandon alongside the others, her arms outstretched as she spun madly through the ring of dancers. He had joined her for some time, twirling through the dancers and stealing kisses whenever she came within range of his lips – which was as often as he could arrange. She was glorious to behold, emerald eyes glowing with the magic flowing through her body and her hair streaming behind her in ebony waves. Even among the chaotic din of shouts and singing, he could pick out her jubilant laughter, light and carefree.

' _She'll have a terrible hangover if she continues at this pace,'_ he mused, her pale eyes flickering golden tracking her progress through the twisting circle of movement. As a human she was highly susceptible to the magic flowing through the air and land, but unlike the people of the Underground, her body would not be used to such a thing and it would likely hit her quite hard when the effects wore off.

Plucking his carved pipe from his lips, Jareth gave a gentle flick of his wrist, sending it flying gracefully into the air where it vanished without a trace. His eyes narrowed, the predatory blink fastening upon the dancing witch. Jareth stepped closer to the spinning ring of dancers, counting the beats of the wild music, as he traced her steps. One…two…three…the music pounding through his blood, his own heart beat thudding in time with it. Then with a quick step forward, he had snatched the hand of his maiden, twirling her into his arms and continuing the dance. Once around the ring…he felt the pull of the music and the magic surge within him, making his Goblyn cry 'To the fields!'. Twice around the ring…and he began to forget just why it had been so to find her, other than to her in his arms once more.

Jareth closed his eyes, his body knowing every step of the dance. As they finished the second turn around the circle, he let the magic flow out of him. One moment they were dancing with the others, the next they were standing on the porch of the farm house.

Glancing up from where she was dozing while the others continued their game of goblin dice, Mama Yan chuckled softly, peering at the Goblin King and the human witch through cloudy grey eyes. "Your Majesty? Come for a game of dice or another game perhaps? Or do you seek something a bit more…private?"

Pursing his lips at the teasing of the old crone, the Goblin King shook his head. Sarah leaned bonelessly against him, her cheeks flushed and her damp hair sticking to the side of her face humming along with the music from the revelers. "I'm returning Sarah to the castle, she has had more than enough revelry for one evening."

Sarah looked up at his words, her face twisted into a petulant pout, as she stomped her foot. "I'm fine. I want to dance more. Don't be a party pooper, Jareth!"

Jerra and Leatha glanced at Sarah in surprise. Hearing Sarah insult the King was one thing, but to hear her use his proper name was a crime that no one else dare commit. Cringing slightly, Jaeme gave his King a quiet smile. "The fiery Goblyn women are best, but we pay for the priviledge of claiming them by accepting the sharp side of their tongues, Sire."

"So I am realizing. And this isn't as sharp as this wench's tongue can be. The magic has dulled her a bit, I fear," chuckled the Goblin King. Twisting from the Goblin King's grip, Sarah wobbled a bit on her feet before heading to the porch stairs. With a long-suffering roll of his eyes and a soft chuckle, Jareth turned and grabbed Sarah by the arm, pulling her back onto the porch. "Are you going to defy me at every turn in the next year, woman?"

Gazing blankly up at him with a vacant grin on her face, Sarah nodded. "Yup!"

"Fine, have it your way." Without warning he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, even as she squealed and giggled with glee. Turning to the others, he gave a brief bow, "Happy Harvest everyone…may you know prosperity and joy for all time."

In a haze of golden flecks, Jareth and Sarah disappeared. The three people on the porch watch as the glitter slowly floated to the wooden floor, before fading out of existence.

"Anyone want to change their bets?" asked Jaeme.

Mama Yana cackled and leaned forward upon her walking stick, reaching for the dice cup. "Samhain is starting to look like a safe bet."

"At this rate they'll do well to make it to Mea'nF'mhair," Jerra giggled, dropping several copper coins upon the pile on the table.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

"Wheeee!" Sarah giggled as the mists of the veils faded from the two of them, leaving them standing in the bower suite of the Goblin Castle. With one arm around her knees, holding Sarah over his shoulder, Jareth bent slightly and pulled the covers back on the bed.

Setting Sarah, on her feet, he smirked at the way she wobbled a bit, then sat heavily on the bed with a snort."Now are you going capable of getting yourself changed for bed, or shall I do it for you?"

"Hah! Bet you'd like an excuse to see me naked, Goblin Boy!" she giggled, then hopped up. Despite her inebriated state, she was remarkably fast. Before Jareth could turn back from the dresser with a nightgown for her, she had bolted for the bedroom door and was running down the hall. '

"Blasted wench," Jareth growled, dropping the nightgown on the bed and racing after her. The castle goblins in the hall, heavily inebriated themselves thanks to the effects of Goblin Ale, seemed to think nothing of Sarah and the King running down the hall.

"Oi…a footrace! Gooooooo SARAH GIIIIIRL!" shouted Smirt, slapping Burp's shoulder so hard the fat goblin fell over, rolling toward the King such a way that the King had no choice but to hurtle the rotund figure. The other goblins thought this was a most excellent addition to the footrace and began to hurl themselves at the King's feet as well.

"Enough!" roared the King, flinging both hands outward with a burst of golden light. The goblins in the hall disappeared with cackles and screams. "Sarah, stop!"

Still giggling, Sarah turned right, then left at the next intersecting halls, until she burst into the informal throne room. Usually overrun with goblins and chickens, the room was empty save for Alesander who was standing upon the balcony, watching the festivities in the Goblin City below. The sound of footfalls echoed down the hallway, making Sarah giggle and rush toward the throne. She gave a sharp squeal as a pair of strong hands grabbed her.

Throwing the wriggling woman over his shoulder, Jareth chuckled. Gotcha!"

"But I'm not tired," protested Sarah, kicking her feet and pounding her fists upon Jaeth's back. "Put me down! I'm the queen, I order you to put me down!"

"Oh ho… _now_ you want to play at being queen just because it suits you. It doesn't work that way, little witch." Locking her legs securely against his chest with an arm tight behind her knees, Jareth turned to carry her out of the room, only to find Alesander leaning against the doorway of the balcony, watching the scene with a darkly amused grin.

"I see you've wasted no time in returning to the castle with your prize," Alesander remarked dryly.

Ignoring the way Sarah pounded on his back and attempted to kick him, Jareth gave his cousin a sly smirk. "Well, I'm not sure how much of a prize she is at the moment."

"Hey!" Sarah yelped, punctuating her words with a sharp smack to Jareth's bum, the sight of which made Alesander splutter in a stifled laugh. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here, ya big jerk!"

Jareth turned away from Alesander, so that Sarah was now facing him from her position upside down over his shoulder. "Sarah, this is Alesander, my chief advisor, castle steward and cousin. Cousin, this is Sarah Williams. Witch. Goblyn. And general pain in my a…."

Alesander's dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked at the woman, who was still poking Jareth's backside in a most undignified manner. "As charmed as I am to meet the new Harvest Maid, I have to enquire as to whether I should call a healer. She appears to be inebriated."

Sarah craned her head upward at an awkward angle and gave Alesander a vacant grin. Glancing from Sarah to Jareth, Alesander cocked an eyebrow questioningly at his King. Jareth merely shook his head, turning to face his cousin as Sarah started humming and poking his bum. Each time she poked him a jolt of energy surged between them, making her giggle and chirp 'zap!'.

"No…but she's 'high' as the humans would put it," Jareth replied, holding her legs firmly and moving toward the door of the throne room.

"I am not!" Sarah squirmed on his shoulder and slapped his bum harder.

Jareth reached up, slapping her sharply on the ass, a purring laugh rumbling in his chest. "Be still wench." Pouting now, Sarah wriggled on his shoulder, then gasped as he swatted her again "Don't argue, Sarah."

"But I'm not drunk or high or anything. I only had the wine that YOU fed me at dinner"

With a long-suffering sigh, Jareth sat down on the throne and pulled Sarah around until she was sitting next to him, his arm firmly around her waist. "Trust me Sarah…you _are high_ , through no fault of your own. Have you tried drugs in the Above, pet?"

"Hah! What do you know about drugs, Goblin Boy?" she giggled, attempting to get away from him but was held in place by his arm.

Arching an eyebrow at her innocent question, Jareth gave her a wicked smirk, purring in her ear. "Darling, I lived in Soho for several years during the 70s…I'll warrant I know more than _you_ do. Now answer the question…have you tried drugs?"

Ducking her head and giving a sheepish smile, Sarah giggled. "Well…um… some hash brownies in high school and half a joint at a party in college."

"Indeed…well, the amount of magic you've soaked up today has given you the equivalent magical buzz of eating or otherwise imbibing a kilo or more of hashish." Jareth had to bite back a laugh at the way Sarah gawped at him. "A magical high is similar to a drug-induced one, you get happy and hungry…"

"Oh…good idea…I'm starving…how do we get room service in this place….I could murder a bacon, pineapple and anchovy pizza," she moaned, managing to squirm away from Jareth and making him lean forward suddenly to grab her and haul her back to the throne.

A snort of laughter echoed in the room as Alesander watched the interaction with great amusement.

"But when it wears off, and it _will_ wear off, Sarah..you will crash and crash hard."

"Meh…I feel great!" she retorted, poking the top of his ass and saying 'Boop' each time she did it.

"Not. One. Word, cousin," Jareth muttered, his eyes narrowing sternly upon his cousin, as he stood Sarah on her feet and rose, taking her hand. Sarah swayed a bit and blinked blearily at him, giving him a cheeky grin.

Unable to hold back any longer, Alesander chuckled helplessly, shaking his head as he watched. "I wouldn't dream of it, Sire. So shall I have the Queen's Chambers prepared…."

"How many times do I have to say it…I…AM…NOT…QUEEN…." Sarah protested, attempting to poke Jareth in the chest with her finger and missing.

Losing her balance, Sarah fell into Jareth's chest and made him grunt, while wrapping his arm around her to hold her up. "As the lady says, she isn't the queen, so prepare the concubine's chambers…."

"I'm not your damn concubine either, Mister Glitterpants…. Wait… you mean you actually have a room for your concubine?" she asked, her bottom lip trembling as she pouted. In the next instant she punched Jareth's chest, earning another startled grunt from the Monarch. "Well she's gonna have to go if I'm queen…I don't share," Sarah sniffled, her green-eyes shimmering with tears.

Biting his lip to keep from laughing further, Alesander cleared his throat. "Um…Sire…you don't have a concubine's quarters."

Sarah perked up hearing Alesander's words, a triumphant look on her face as she shrugged away from Jareth's arm and immediately wobbled on her feet. "hah! Knew it!"

"That's right, the concubine sleeps in my bed… _with me_ …that will do…" Jareth purred, wrapping his arm around her once more to steady her.

Sarah slapped at his arm, jumping away from him with such force that she fell over the edge of the pit in front of the throne, only to land in a heap on the cushions that lay on the floor of the pit. "Hey…wait….no! Can't I sleep where I did last night?"

"I suppose…for tonight at least, until I can get a proper concubine's alcove added to my rooms," Jareth laughed, winking at Alesander while Sarah scowled up at him from the pit. Leaning over, he extended his gloved hand to her, "Come on, you can go to your rooms and get some rest."

"I'm telling you I'm not tired…I feel wide awake. Just hungry," she grumbled, ignoring his hand and throwing herself on her stomach along the edge of the pit, and struggling to get her leg over the edge. Grunting with the effort, she finally managed to get her legs up on the main part of the throne room and sit up, giving Jareth a cranky pout. "Am I a prisoner here?"

Trying to control his own laughter at Sarah's antics, Jareth shook his head. "Of course not, Sarah. You are still an honoured guest,"

"Good!" Without warning she hopped to her feet and ran for the door of the throne room that led to the main entry for the castle.

"Your rooms are not that way, Sarah!" Jareth called after her.

"I know…I'm going to the city. We passed a pub called "Kingy's Knickers' last night and I want to check it out."

Jareth's lips curled into a sultry smirk and he chuckled softly. "Precious, there is nothing to check out…I don't wear any."

"Huh, wha?" Sarah asked, struggling with the heavy door, the meaning of his words completely lost on her in her current state.

"Never mind, pet," Jareth laughed, crossing the room toward the door where she was pushing ineffectively upon it. "You aren't leaving and that is final. Believe me, it will be best if you are in bed when the magic wears off…"

"I'm not tiiiiired…"

"Blast it all, Sarah, why must it always be a fight with you?" he grumbled, his irritation getting the better of him. "Do I have to chain you to my bed to make sure you actually rest, wench?!"

"Oh…kinky!" Sarah giggled, finally grasping the handle of the door and giving a mighty jerk on it.

Jareth's tongue curled around his canines as he debated how best to answer. "You have no idea."

With a final yank on the door, Sarah squeaked in surprise when it opened at last. Ignoring Jareth she strutted into the outer hall, wobbling from one side of the hall to the other in her rush to get to the door leading to the castle forecourt. "Nah… I want some more dancing and ohh… a kebab, with a side of that yummy dipping stuff…and some fried potatoes…do you think the fried dough seller will be in the market square?" she babbled to herself as she went.

"Sharasa minu," Jareth muttered darkly, following the stoned woman into the hall, his boots clicking sharply on the stone floor. Before she reached the door, he reached out and grabbed her, spinning her back against his chest then deftly scooping her back into his arms.

"Hey! Put me down!"

Huffing under his breath, Jareth ignored her protests and tossed her over his shoulder with a great heave, the sound of Alesander's laugher echoing out of the throne room.

"So now what, cousin? Lock her in a dungeon to keep her out of trouble?" Alesander asked, his dark eyes shining with mirth as he watched Jareth try to keep control of the struggling woman.

"You can only put me in the dungeon if you bring that yummy crop…" giggled Sarah, returning to 'booping' Jareth's bum with each step that he took.

Pursing his lips at Alesander, while swatting Sarah's bum hard enough to make her gasp and squirm, Jareth sighed irritably. "The thought _had_ occurred to me but…"

"Let me guess…you gave her an oath that you wouldn't do such a thing," cut in Alesander, quirking an eyebrow at his cousin the King.

"Something like that, yes…."

"Cousin… " began Alesander, only to be silenced by a dark look from Jareth.

"I know…I know….I give my oath too freely to women…." Jareth snapped, marching toward the stairs at the back of the throne room, determined to get Sarah safely tucked away for the night.

Laughing harder, Alesander followed Jareth toward the stairs. "No, Jareth, not 'women' in general – just _that_ woman in particular."

As much as Jareth hated to admit it, Alesander was right.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

' _Hmm… so warm and snuggly. Don't wanna get up but…gotta pee,'_ Sarah thought, snuggling down into the delicious soft cocoon of blankets that were wrapped around her. Groaning, she tried to ignore the insistent ache, but it was too much. With a tug, she pulled her arms out of the lovely warm blankets and gave a feline stretch of her arms and legs, only to moan as the room seemed to give a sudden lurch.

"Fuck…vertigo…." She gasped, burrowing her face back under the covers. The room felt as if it were swaying under her. Gingerly she tried to stretch again and found that there was something heavy and thick around her left ankle. Blinking, Sarah opened her eyes and yawned again as she stared at the ceiling of a bedroom. _'Something…is…different,'_ she mused, frowning curiously at the ceiling. After a moment of staring at the ceiling, she realized that the floral embroidered canopy was missing - she was not in the bower bedroom. Stretching out her arms, she realized that bed she was in was far larger that the one in the bower room and the ceiling was painted with the royal crest.

Confused now, she grunted slightly and worked to kick her foot free of the covers. Clank. Clink. Clank. Each kicking movement was met with the sound of soft metal.

Finally freeing herself from the blankets, she felt a slight breeze, sending goosebumps racing down her arms. Looking down she saw that she was wearing the simple, sleeveless linen underdress and nothing else. _'What the hell?!'_ she wondered, then noticed the padded leather cuff around her left ankle. Wriggling her foot, she watched a finely wrought silver chain bounce and clank against the side of the bed.

"What the fuck?" she muttered and rolled toward the edge of the bed. When her head started spinning and throbbing, Sarah moaned and grabbed her temples, shutting her eyes tight. Once her head stopped hurting, she carefully opened her eyes and glanced over the side of the bed, blinking stupidly at the sight which greeted her. On the floor next to the bed lay Jareth, stretched on his back on a thin pallet. Feeling heat rise to her cheeks, Sarah sucked on her lower lip as she took her time looking at him. He was shirtless, and had one arm thrown over his eyes, the other laying low across his stomach. Across his upper body, the lines of his king-making were barely visible, glowing soft orange in the early morning light. Wrapped low around his waist was a silken sheet, which did little to hide the solid ridge under his light linen sleeping trousers. Even under the sheet, she could see the sizeable girth and length, the sight sending heat to pool low in her belly.

She would have been happy to sit there and stare at him longer, but her bladder was being remarkably insistent. Biting her lip, she sat up and reached for the cuff to unfasten it, only to have the room spin horribly on her. As she leaned over to grab the cuff, her head buzzed and she fell off the bed – straight onto Jareth's chest.

Grunting, Jareth jumped under the onslaught, his eyes flying open in surprise as his arms automatically wrapped around the warm body now laying across his. Her hair was mussed over her face and the skirt of her dress was hiked up high upon her thighs, spilling over his legs. Jareth blinked twice, before registering fully what had transpired, looking down at the equally surprised face of Sarah, he smiled. "Precious, I believe when humans talk of 'jumping' someone, they typically mean the act of having sex, not actually _jumping_ on them."

"I wasn't jumping you…you… glittery git…I was falling…" Sarah squirmed a bit as she tried to sit up, then froze as she felt the firm ridge of him 'twitch' against her inner thigh, an involuntary gasp bursting past her lips. Heat burned in her cheeks at the feeling of him. Ducking her head she placed her palms on his chest and pushed upward, shivering at the jolt of power that coursed through her from the touch.

"Well if you want to fall for me I have no objections," Jareth purred, turning onto his side and propping his head on his hand as he lightly teased his bare fingertips along the top of her thigh.

With a squeak Sarah grabbed the skirt of her dress and tugged it down, before tucking it under her knees until no flesh was showing below her waist. "I…wait…what…no! That isn't what I meant and you know it," she pouted, then glared at him as he continued to laugh. Growling she jabbed him sharply in the chest. "Care to explain how I ended up half dressed and chained to your bed?"

Still lounging on his side, Jareth chuckled as he watched her, his eyes crinkling upward with amusement. "Well I couldn't very well let you sleep in your overdress – you would have been far too warm. And even if I changed you into a nightdress using magic, you would have only accused me of being a cad and taking liberties. Quite frankly, I deserve a medal of honor for the trouble it took me to get your overdress off you in the first place."

"Oh, I was defending my virtue? Good! Serves you right!"

Quirking a steeply angled eyebrow, Jareth gave her a slow, sly smirk. "Not quite, darling. You were determined to head into the city to 'paint the town red' whatever that means."

Sarah nibbled her lip and tried to smooth her hair back from her face, giving him a sheepish look. "Oh…um…and the chain?"

"You are chained because every time I tucked you into the bed you groped my ass, made lewd suggestions about my other 'attributes' or tried to run out of the room to go into the city. It was either chain you to the blasted bed or lock you in the dungeon," Jareth laughed, sitting up and lounging against the side of the bed, leaning one arm lightly on his bent knee. "I assumed that you would be less angry waking safely in my bed, than in a dank dungeon."

"You're lying…I…I'd never..um..grope you…." She mumbled, hanging her head to avoid the amused grin from the Goblin King.

"Oh really? Do think hard, pet. What do you remember from last night?" Jareth purred, snapping his fingers. A delicate crystal appeared balanced on the tips of his fingers, showing images of her from the night before.

Sarah saw flashes of a world turned topsy turvy, with a close up view of Jareth's bum, fabric pulling tight over the firm curve of his buttocks. As she watched, she saw herself poking his bum and giggling 'boop' with each poke of her finger. Sarah groaned as she caught an image of her rolling over and trying to pin him on the bed, as she pinched his bum. "Oh my…I'm…sooooooo sorry! Did I kick you out of the bed for turning me down?"

Shaking his head, Jareth gave her a warm smile. "No, pet. I chose to sleep down here, it was safer."

"Safer?"

"Yes, Every time I got you tucked in and tried to lay on the bed, on _top_ of the covers I might add, you would roll over and attempt to molest me." Seeing the dismayed look on her face, Jareth chuckled, his eyes flickering mischievously. "Well, your exact words were, 'I could ride you like a race horse. Giddyup horsey!'"

At that Sarah hid her face in her hands, then turned and crawled back up onto the bed, pulling the covers over her head until she was completely hidden. "Oh…Gods…I can't believe I did that. I'm soooooooo sorry."

Still laughing at her reaction, Jareth sat up next to the bed, sliding his hand under the covers to tickle her spine. "I decided the only way you'd believe I hadn't instigated something to break my oath would be if I slept on the floor." When she didn't move he poked her bum under the covers, making her squeak and scoot further away from him. "Hush, pet. I'm not upset. You were quite amusing for being stoned out of your mind. Although, we will have to take precautions for the other festivals. I can't have you getting a magical high and molesting my subjects. The repercussions for all of us could be disastrous."

A muffled groan came from under the covers.

"I suppose I could just commission a chastity belt for you," he teased, watching the brocade covered lump, as Sarah lifted the edge of the duvet enough to peek at him, her green eyes barely visible.

"That _would_ keep you from getting in trouble too," she said. "Let's do it…"

Still chuckling Jareth stretched his arms above his head, causing his back to snap and crack – while knowing full well that Sarah was watching his every move. "You forget, little witch…my commission, I get the only key."

"Damn…" she muttered, her eyes glued to his bare chest as he got up and wandered toward the bathroom. From the view she got when he stood, he was wearing absolutely nothing under the thin sleeping pants and the ridge she had felt was far more prominent than she thought. From the bathroom the sound of water running filtered into the room. Blushing, she threw the covers up and sat up, then stood. Taking a step she froze as her foot landed in something squishy and cold.

"Arrgh…what the Hell is this?!" she yelped, looking down to see congealed cheese and soggy pizza crust squishing between her toes.

Peeking from the bathroom, Jareth laughed, while Sarah hopped on one foot, glaring from her foot to Jareth, then back again. " _That_ would be the late-night snack that you insisted upon having or you wouldn't stay put. You made me take you to a place called 'Speedy's' and order that foul concoction, while some spotty-faced boy made ham-fisted passes at you and you 'flirted' with him. Then the loathsome boy had the temerity to suggest that I was your father!" Leaning against the door of the bathroom Jareth gave her a wicked grin. "You, my little vixen even gave him your 'number' apparently."

Sarah groaned and hung her head, her foot still held in the air as she looked around for something to wipe the cheese and sauce from it. "Did…did that void the contract?"

Watching her wobble a bit, Jareth snapped his fingers and the pizza box disappeared. "No, pet. Since I was with you and you were clearly not fully responsible for your actions, your honor and the contract are safe." Walking over to her, he unfastened the ankle cuff, smiling at the stunned look on her face when they simply vanished. Then without a word he picked her up in his arms and carried her toward the bathroom.

"Um…what are you doing?"

"You need a bath given that you're filthy from dancing for hours last night. You also reek of garlic and now have that 'pizza' stuff on your foot. I'm not letting you walk through my chambers smearing that foul stuff everywhere," he said, nudging the bathroom door open with his hip.

Inside the room, the bath is full of steaming water, with a sweetly floral scented oil seeming to float upon the surface. Seeing the prepared bath, Sarah tensed up. _'Shit…is he expecting to bathe with me?!'_ she wondered, frantically looking around.

Sensing her fear, Jareth set her on the counter of the sink and wet a washcloth. "Relax, Sarah. I am only carrying you in here. I have no intention of bathing you myself – not today, at least," he purred, as he gently cleaned the pizza off her feet, before dropping the dirty cloth in a bin by the door. "Now it is time for you to have a bath and eat before you are due to meet Sir Didymus to discuss the legal arrangements."

Sarah nodded and hopped off the counter and walking toward the waiting bath, while tugging to loosen the laces of her underdress. Stopping in front of the tub she turned to face him. "Um… you _are_ going to leave aren't you? I'm not bathing with you watching me. Marriage contract or no!"

Jareth's lips curled in a sly smirk. "No, I am not leaving…this is _my_ bathroom, it is you who is going to leave."

In the space of a heartbeat, he tossed a crystal at her feet and she vanished, appearing with a loud splash, naked in a deep copper bath tub. Blinking she pushed wet hair from face as a Goblyn woman poked her head into the bathroom.

"Oh my…I'm sorry…I didn't know this was your room…." Sarah stammered, shrinking down into the water. "I was with Jar…the Goblin King and…he sent me for a bath and…I guess…he…well..missed."

The Goblyn woman gave her a confused look, then laughed. "The King _never_ misses, m'Lady Sarah."

"Um… so… not to be rude or anything, but where am I and who are you?" Blinking as water dripped into her eyes, Sarah regarded the woman. She had light brown skin, which seemed to be dotted with deep orange 'freckles'. In her arms she held what appeared to be a dressing gown, which was looped around her arm preventing it from dragging on the floor since she was far shorter than any of the Goblyn women Sarah had met earlier.

"This is the Queen's chambers and I'm Lorana, His Majesty sent for me last night to act as your Lady's Maid when you are visiting us. I prepared the bath for you just a few minutes ago after receiving word that you would be arriving – although I rather thought you'd arrive through the door."

Giving the woman a sheepish grin, Sarah nodded. "I think I would've preferred that too. The King just had other ideas."

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Although the last day had been surprising and far more eventful than he expected, Jareth was inordinately pleased with how things had turned out. True, he still needed to sort out how to punish Sarah and Jerra in a suitable manner that would show he was not being 'soft' on them, but wouldn't result in a lynch mob of subjects coming to Sarah's defense.

Smiling to himself, Jareth picked up the fine porcelain cup and sipped the deep green liquid within, purring at the heady aroma of exotic spices, which only accented the slightly bitter taste of the Hanarush – an Elvish specialty that was similar to Turkish coffee in taste, but more heavily spiced. After the events of the last day, he really needed the extra 'pick-me-up' of the Hanarush this morning.

Jareth hummed quietly to himself as he put down the cup, then picked up a bit of toast in one hand, and a recent inter-kingdom trade request in the other. For two days his thoughts had been on the festival, leaving the running of the kingdom to Alesander, but now that the dark of the moon was coming, it was time to get back to work. He had no sooner signed one missive and finished half a slice of toast slathered with peach marmalade, when his study door burst open, banging loudly against the wall.

"You lousy cheat! You did it on purpose!" Hoggle shouted, storming into the room. His face was red as if he had run the whole way to Jareth's study from the front entry of the castle. "I shoulda _known_ you'd do something like this!"

Arching an eyebrow, Jareth's eyes darkened as they narrowed on the agitated dwarf. "Like _what_ , Hedgewart?" he asked coolly, picking up his fork and spearing a bite of the bacon on his plate.

Hoggle slammed his pudgy fist down on the front of Jareth's desk, making the cutlery chime against the fine porcelain of the plates. "Ya tricked Sarah! Ya crowned her on purpose!"

At Hoggle's claim, Jareth lay aside his fork and glared at the dwarf. "Watch it Hogsbreath!" Jareth growled, his tone icy. "Do I need to remind you just whom you are speaking to in such a manner?"

Hoggle huffed and leaned close to the desk, his beady eyes meeting Jareth's look with a challenge all their own. "Ah know _exactly_ who I'm talking to…Ah'm talking to the _rat_ that tricked Sarah into marrying 'im. That's who!"

"Is that all?" Jareth shrugged, seeming to dismiss the claim as he picked his fork back up and resumed eating.

Hoggle blinked, confusion etched on his face at the King's reply. "Is that all?! Is that all?! Isn't it enough?" he demanded, pacing in front of the desk, his worn shoes leaving smudges of dirt on the floor of Jareth's study.

"As usual, Hogsbum you have the events correct, but your facts are erroneous. I did crown her as the Harvest Maid, but as per the ritual, I was blindfolded and unaware of who was being crowned." Jareth smeared another slice of toast with more of the peach marmalade and bit into it, returning his attention to the papers on his desk as if that were the end of the matter.

"Bah! Why don't you admit that you tricked her into joining the circle and you _cheated_ to crown her and bind her to you," Hoggle roared, his face a shocking shade of puce.

"I won't admit it because I did nothing of the sort. As is usual for Sarah, she jumped into the circle without stopping to consider the consequences of her actions. A rather unfortunate habit of our dear Queen."

"DON'T CALL HER THAT!"

Jareth quirked an eyebrow at the angry dwarf, his lips curling in a malicious sneer. "Funny, that is exactly what Sarah said last night as I was putting her into my bed. Although she eventually came around to like the idea of the title."

In a show of anger unprecedented for the cowardly dwarf, Hoggle rushed the desk, frantically reaching over it as if to grab the Goblin King. "Why you lousy, no good, cheating bugbladder bogbeast!"

"Sit DOWN!" Jareth roared, his pale eyes nearly black now. A nearby chair slid forcefully across the stone floor and knocked into the back of Hoggle's little legs, forcing him to sit.

The furious dwarf struggled against the chair, but found that he couldn't move. He opened his mouth and shouted curses at the King, only to find that his voice was now gone.

Jareth snapped his fingers and the remains of his breakfast tray disappeared, then fixed dwarf with a deadly glare. "Let me _enlighten_ you about a few things, Higgle. Sarah entered the magical circle of her own free will. I was already doing my part of the ritual when she joined. Not only that, but there is one thing that absolves me from _any_ guilt in this matter whatsoever – when I began the dance I was under the impression she was Lady Charlotte, a simple mortal hedgewitch from the Above. It wasn't until _after_ she was crowned that whatever glamour she used to hide from me failed, allowing me to see the truth of her identity."

At the King's words, Hoggle's struggled slowed, then stopped. Jareth nodded and waved his hand in Hoggle's direction. Gulping Hoggle rubbed his chin and looked thoughtfully at the floor, before finally looking up at his King.

"Yer…yer not just sayin that?"

"Believe me, Higsbum, if I had known I would have made sure she knew just what it would mean to dance in the circle," Jareth sighed, sitting back in his desk chair.

"Well, she didn't know what it meant. Can't ya just choose another Harvest Maid?" Hoggle grumbled, feeling his stomach lurch at the thought that Sarah was now stuck with the rat for at least a year. He was sure Jareth would use the situation to take advantage of Sarah, if he hadn't already.

Jareth shook his head, his eyes fading to their usual pale blue. "Impossible. To do so would default on my oath to the Labyrinth. Do you remember what the kingdom was like before I took over?" he asked, his voice quiet and pensive.

Hoggle nodded. He had been but a wee child at the time, but he remembered the Great Famine and plagues that wiped out the rest of his clan, leaving him foraging for grasses in the desert of the Outlands – a place no dwarf should ever be, much less a child.

"Well, the magic has chosen Sarah as the Harvest Maid. If either she or I try to change that, it means the return of famine, plagues and chaos. Do you really want Sarah to be responsible for the destruction of the kingdom?"

Hanging his head, Hoggle muttered, "Well…no…o'course not. She…she's not like that. She's kind. She cares for us."

"Exactly, Hoggle. Which is why it would make far more sense for you to work _with_ me to show Sarah the beauty of this kingdom, so that she will decide to stay with…. _us_ …. forever," Jareth said.

Hoggle's lips worked soundlessly as he argued with himself. While he wanted Sarah to remain, the knowledge that to do so she'd almost certainly wind up married to the rat didn't allow him to rest easy.

"We have a year to show her the possibilities of this land and her people, Hoggle. If she stays at the end of that time, it will be Sarah's decision and solely hers. She will choose whether to stay and what role to take if she does stay. I will not interfere in those decisions, but that won't keep me from trying to show her what life could be like if she _did_ stay."

A pair of beady black eyes watched the King, "Well…what can I do? I'm just a dwarf? I run around trying to keep the castle horde from destroying the place."

"I suggest you put them to work preparing the Queen's Gardens for planting," Jareth suggested, picking up a scroll and unrolling it upon the desk between the two of them. "I've had the Elven gardener of Avalon draw up the plans, and two of his apprentices are in the Above as we speak, gathering the seedlings."

Hoggle leaned over the desk, peering at the carefully drawn out plans. "It's nice and all, but how is that gonna help Sarah want to stay?"

"Because Hoggle, you are going to give her what a hedgewitch needs – her own magical herb garden."

Frowning thoughtfully, Hoggle shook his head. "I dunno, yer Majesty. Doesn't seem like enough to make her want to stay."

"It's a start, Hogsbottom. It's a start," replied the King, staring out the balcony window, his eyes barely registering the way the Labyrinth shifted and changed at will below.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

While Jareth was being screamed at by an irate dwarf, Sarah was busy being 'mother-henned' by an elderly fox-goblin.

The reunion with Sir Didymus was a happy one. A goblin announced him and led him into the sitting room of the Queen's Chambers. With a flourish he swept his hat from his head and bowed low, leaning heavily on his staff.

"M'Lady Sarah, you have no idea how pleased I was to hear that you are safe and well," he said, giving her a furry smile, before being enveloped in a tight hug from the young mortal.

Within minutes the two of them were settled at a small café table on the balcony, a meal fit for a Queen filling the table. As Sarah ate a hearty breakfast, Sir Didymus went over the finer points of the marriage contract with her. All in all, it wasn't as complex as she had expected, even though Sarah was not entirely convinced that she wasn't somehow duped into things in the first place.

At 1 in the afternoon, Alesander arrived and led them through the twisting halls of the castle to the King's study to complete the negotiations.

"Why must we go through all of this," Sarah grumbled to Alesander. "I thought the King and I sealed the contract last night when we…"

"When you what?" Alesander inquired, giving her an amused look over his shoulder, his dark eyes flashing brightly.

"Um…nothing…" Sarah's gaze dropped to the floor, following the tall hobgoblin's feet as he led her along.

Alesander gave her one last knowing look, before turning down another hall. At the end of the hall is a heavy door. Simple bands of copper wrap the top and bottom of the word door. Sarah frowned and stoppped in the middle of the hall, eyeing the door warily. "What is that, a dungeon door?"

Chuckling, Alesander shook his head, "Lady Sarah, we have been going 'up' in the castle, in case you hadn't noticed. We are currently far above the Labyrinth."

Still frowning, Sarah glared openly at the door now, her green eyes flashing. "So what? A torture chamber?"

"Only for His Majesty," Alesander said with a cryptic laugh, pushing the door open.

Inside the open door Sarah saw shelves of papers and books. Slowly she moved forward before stepping through the door. Three walls were lined with shelves and 'old-fashioned' document drawers, with papers and books covering every surface until it looked like an explosion of paper was imminent. In front of the large balcony doors, was a massive wooden desk, the top of which was covered in more papers. Jareth was sitting at the desk, a quill in hand as he spoke to two Elven advisors about a scroll in front of him. His tone was curt and brusque as he greeted them.

"Please be seated. I'm just wrapping up a few things to make arrangements for today's court session."

Alesander led Sarah and Sir Didymus to a large table, which remarkably was free of papers. Still wondering at the detatched and somewhat cold tone of his 'order', Sarah gingerly sat in one of the padded chairs, her hands folded in her lap. _'It's like being sent to the principal's office,'_ she mused, only vaguely aware of Sir Didymus settling in the chair next to her, twirling one side of his mustache in one paw.

The steady ticking of the clock and the murmuring of the advisors with the king continued. Trying not to fidget in her chair, Sarah tried to fight the feeling that she had done something horribly wrong. Jareth ignored her, continuing to talk quietly to his advisors and sign paperwork, while leaving her to sit – silent and still at the table. Nearly an hour after Sarah and Sir Didymus had entered the study, the advisors bowed and took their leave. Dropping his quill on the desk, Jareth rose and took a seat at the opposite end of the table, with Alesander on his right. He snapped his fingers and a formal document appeared on the table in front of him, alongside a quill in a holder with a pot of ink. He surveyed the document a moment, before looking up at Sarah.

"You've looked at the contract and discussed it with Didymus? Any questions or items you would like to address?"

' _Why is he being so cold and officious?!'_ she wondered. Swallowing heavily, Sarah nodded, her hands tightening in her lap. "I…I…um just wanted to hear it from you that I don't have to stay here…"

Jareth's face fell momentarily at that, before shifting back to the aloof neutrality he had been showing. "No, Sarah. You don't have to stay here. At a minimum you must be here for the three-day festivals that span each of the eight major holidays. That said, the Queen's chambers will be made available for your use whenever you want to visit – even if there was no festival and you only wanted someplace to escape to."

Silently, Sarah nodded, her tone measured and formal just like his had been. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I appreciate the generosity."

"However, as you plan on remaining Above unless you are required to be here, I should like to send a squad of the Goblyn army to protect you…" Jareth said, only to be cut off by Sarah, her green eyes narrowing on him.

"Protect me from what? The jerk next door who lets his dog poop in my yard? Ja…Your Majesty. I don't need protecting. My home is perfectly safe."

"Why must you defy me at every turn, Sarah? It is a perfectly reasonable request," grumbled Jareth, huffing as he ran a hand through his hair. "You are technically my wife and consort, I must ensure your safety and that you are adequately cared for or I am not fulfilling _my_ part of the contract."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Sarah frowned at him, shaking her head. "No goblins lurking about. Find another way."

Growling he huffed, his pale eyes darkening. "Fine. I want to inspect your lodging personally to determine what protections I can provide for you that will not require goblin bodyguards. Is that acceptable?"

Sarah nibbled her bottom lip for a moment and looked at the table top, her expression pensive. After several moments, she look up at him once more and nodded.

"This means however, if I equip you with protective items that you are supposed to have on you at all times, then you _must_ abide by that," he added, arching an eyebrow as waited for her to object once more. Surprisingly, she didn't.

"Fine. You can check out my house – but you do not have permission to go poking around in all of my things."

"Fine," he snapped back, then his lips curled in a mischievous smirk. "Now, to the matter of intimacy…"

"What?!" Sarah squeaked, her eyes wide as Sir Didymus's whiskers twitched nervously.

Tugging at his mustache, Sir Didymus ducked his head, unable to look at his King. "Um… I am sorry, Sire, but we…well what I mean to say is…um… Lady Sarah did not wish to discuss such personal things with me."

Jareth glared at Sir Didymus in disbelief, his lips pursed in a stern line. "You've had eight kits, Didymus. You are well-versed in the pleasures of the flesh and you let her get away with such timidity?"

Sir Didymus coughed softly, and shook his head. "Well…yes… I suppose, Sire. But I did not wish to make my Lady uncomfortable."

Turning his attention back to Sarah, Jareth's lips quirked in a sly smile. "You didn't seem so reticent and shy about such things last night when you were slapping my bum and suggesting that you'd like to see just what my trousers hinted at."

Sarah's cheeks flushed crimson at Jareth's teasing, while Alesander made a quiet choking sound and rushed out onto the balcony. From the balcony door, the faint sound of chuckling could be heard. Alesander tries to keep a straight face, but fails, standing up and walking out on the balcony as he chuckles. Sarah flushes crimson and hangs her head.

Hanging her head, Sarah muttered, "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"No," the Goblin King laughed, his eyes sparkling wickedly. "Now then…intimacy. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No…but I fail to see what that has do with things! I've been too busy to date!" Sarah grumbled, staring resolutely at the table top rather than face the laughter in Jareth's eyes a second longer.

"Good…that simplifies things."

"What? How?" she asked, her nose wrinkling as she tried to follow the logic.

"It is quite simple really, Sarah. If you had a boyfriend you wouldn't be able to keep him and still abide by the terms of the magical contract, so you would've had to break up with him. Far better not to have to deal with that at all," Jareth said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "When was the last time you were 'intimate' with someone, and our 'intimacies' of last night don't count."

Sarah's face burned hotly again, as she frantically looked at Sir Didymus who coughed and looked uncomfortable by the whole discussion."We didn't DO anything! It was only some kissing, I swear!"

"You're the King's consort…it is no business of mine if you did, m'Lady," Sir Didymus mumbled, wishing that he was still in his quiet bog, or anywhere but where he was.

Laughing merrily, Jareth grinned at the embarrassed Sarah and the clearly uncomfortable fox-goblin. "Come come, Sarah Precious…we did go for a lovely roll in the hay…."

"No. We didn't! It was in the barn…But we were actually just _rolling_ down the ramps of fresh hay!" she protested with an outraged squeak.

Tapping his quill upon the papers in front of him, Jareth's mirth died down. "Sarah, the question…."

"Huh…what…Um… I don't know, I went on a date a month ago…it was horrible, but I did kiss him, I suppose."

Jareth smirked, is eyes glittering darkly at her. "Pet, I don't care about kissing. I need to know if you took him to your bed or joined him in his. In other words, is there any chance that you might be with child?"

Sarah felt her cheeks stinging with heat as she glared at Jareth, his cheeky grin grating upon her already frazzled nerves. "What kind of woman do you think I am?!"

"Goblyn of course, hence the question," he quipped, then tilted his head, watching he reaction intently. "Am I to take your indignation to mean that there is no chance of such a thing?"

Shaking her head miserably, Sarah sighed, her shoulders hunching. "No… I'm most definitely not pregnant."

"Ahh…that is fortuitous as well. So that there will be no need for either of us to renege on the contract. Do you have any last minute questions or concerns regarding the contract?" Jareth watched as Sarah sucked on her lower lip in a way that made him want to do it for her. Even in the short time he had been around her he knew that meant she was thinking deep thoughts.

"And what about sex?" she finally asked, her words making Sir Didymus cough so violently he got up and rushed out onto the balcony, leaving the King and his consort in the study by themselves.

"What about it? I'm wholly in favor of it on principle," the Goblin King chuckled, giving Sarah a lecherous smirk and waggling his eyebrows.

Sarah pursed her lips firmly, trying to remain angry at him, but failing in the face of the ridiculous wiggling of his eyebrows on the over-the-top attempt at a smouldering look that he gave her. Giggling, she shook her head. "You know what I mean, Goblin King."

Smiling warmly at her, Jareth nodded. "Yes, Sarah. I do know what you mean and my oath to Lady Charlotte still holds – I will not abuse your trust in me in that way. If you seek intimacy, it will be on your own terms. I am content to wait…although my Goblyn side would have claimed you last night if I'd let it."

Sarah felt her face burn once more. 'Damnit…will I never stop blushing around him?!' she thought irritably.

"Okay then, I agree formally to the contract," she said, watching Jareth sign the document with a flourish, before handing her the quill and the scroll. Taking a deep breath she dipped the quill in the ink and signed her name – wondering at the sudden feeling that she was signing away her first born or something equally binding.

"Excellent," purred the Goblin King, his eyes dark and sultry as he smiled at her. "Now then…let's discuss the matter of punishment."

"Punishment?" she murmured, cringing at the breathless sound in her voice, while her heart raced.

"Now now, darling…. While I'm quite sure you'd like my crop applied to your delightful bum, that is not the punishment I was referring to," he chuckled, his grin broadening at the way the pink flush of her face extended downward over the top of her breasts. He curled his tongue around the points of his teeth as he watched her. "There is still the rather significant detail regarding Lady Charlotte's extremely public lie to the Crown and the people of the Goblin Kingdom."

Gulping, Sarah winced. "I don't suppose you could just chalk it up to girlish stupidity?"

"I could… but where would the fun be in that."

At the mention of fun, Sarah sucked on, her lower lip, biting it lightly as she considered her options then she looked up, her green eyes glowing briefly. With hooded eyes and a seductive purr, she batted her eyelids at him. "Well, you _could_ punish me privately and tell the Court all is forgiven."

Jareth's eyebrows shot up briefly at her bold words, then his lips curled in a devilish smirk. "I think we can come to an…agreement… that would be mutually appealing, darling."

Seeing the positively hungry look in her eyes, Sarah had to wonder if her mouth had just written a check that her ass wasn't ready to cash.

**Translations:**

_Sharasa minu:_ (Goblyn) roughly translates to 'Bloody hell!'.

* * *

_**As always, please review :))** _


	10. In Sickness and in Health

Ordinarily, after the fifth set of petitioners who wanted the Goblin King to arbitrate a ‘chook dispute’, Jareth would have stood up, roared that he would bog the next person who brought forth a complaint regarding a chicken – which would then clear the court of all frivolous goblin suits, leaving only those petitioners who truly needed the adjudication of the King.

But today was different.

After the unexpected twist that came with the festival weekend, and the fact that he got to spend not one, but two nights with Sarah in his bed, the Goblin King was in a fine mood and more than willing to let the goblins prattle on about their beloved chickens. Unfortunately for Alesander, he was so engrossed in thinking through the events of the weekend that he had ceased to give any thought to the Goblin Court Petitioners who were patiently (for the most part) awaiting his judgement.

“Mah chook…she’s a gud’un, Sire. And Goblet wanna steal ‘er for ‘er stew pot!” declared the small goblin standing in front of the throne wearing a colander for a helmet.

“LIES!” shouted the rotund goblin woman next to him, before belting him firmly upside the head with a wooden rolling pin. “She was my best layer and he took her!!”

Alesander looked at Jareth who was idly rolling a crystal across his leather clad fingers, only to pause its movement and glance into it, a sly smile curling the corner of his mouth. Without seeing the image, Alesander knew exactly what – or rather who, his King was looking at.

Sarah.

“Sire…” he murmured, leaning closer to throne in a bid to get the King’s attention. “Could you bellow at the little cretins and clear the court so we can get on with this?”

Blinking, Jareth looked up and finally seemed to notice the citizens crowded into the room, many holding bags, baskets or cages with chickens in them. He glared at the goblins in front of him, then waved his hand toward Alesander.

“Goblet, see the Court Advisor after court and he will see to it that you get a hen from the castle hen house, to replace the one that Skunksnot took.” Narrowing his gaze on the goblin wearing the colander, he growled. “And _you_ , if I catch so much as a hint of you thieving chickens or anything else, I will set you to work scrubbing the bog with a pixie’s hairbrush!”

Skunksnot cringed and nodded so furiously that the colander rolled off his head with a loud clang, then thumped and clattered as it fell down the steps leading away from the throne.

“Now then, is there anyone in here who has a case for me that does _not_ concern chickens – dead or alive?”

When no one raised their hands or stepped forward, Jareth rolled his eyes and bellowed so loud the room shook. “THEN GET OUT!!!!!”

A casual observer might be forgiven for thinking that the goblins were foolish for giggling as they scampered from the throne room. Considering the way the room shook with the angry roar of the King, one might assume that the assembled goblins holding chickens were running for their lives, but as with most things in the Labyrinth, looks are often deceiving.

With an irritated sigh, Alesander closed the outer door to the throne room with a wave of his hand. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to just outlaw bringing chickens and cases involving chickens before the Crown, Sire?”

Jareth stretched across the throne, lazily kicking one leg over the curved arm and balancing a single crystal on the tips of his fingers. Ignoring the crystal, he glanced at his cousin and laughed. “Why? The goblins take bets on when I’ll get fed up with them and kick them all out. Why should I deprive them of a bit of amusement that doesn’t harm anyone?”

Grumbling under his breath, Alesander checked his watch, then the scroll of items that needed done before answering. “While it may not _harm_ anyone, it certainly does waste time that could be far more productive on other things.”

“True, but where is the fun in that?” Jareth chuckled, flicking the crystal into the air and smiling as it vanished. “Fine. You go do the oh-so-important court business of the running the kingdom. I have an important task of my own that can’t wait a moment longer and will keep me away from the castle until dinnertime at the very least.”

Alensander blinked from his list to the king, shaking his head. “But…I have nothing of the sort on the list that is that so as to take you away for the better part of the day, Sire?”

Waving off Alesander’s protestations, Jareth rose and snapped his fingers. His lips curled in a self-satisfied smile as he felt his body wrapped tightly in the Goblin Regalia, the dragonhide leather and elvish diamonique armor creaking slightly as he moved. “It isn’t on your list, man. It’s on mine,” he replied coolly. Sauntering toward the hidden exit of the room that led to his tower, the Goblin King paused to give his cousin a wicked grin. “As our Harvest Maiden requested, I have left her alone for ‘at least’ 48 hours as of….” he said, flicking his hand toward the thirteen-hour clock on the wall. “As of now. So I shall do the ‘honourable’ thing and make myself available to her.”

Shaking his head, Alesander tucked his scroll of items to be done away in his robes. “If you crowd her, you’ll push her away, cousin.”

“I don’t intend to crowd her – I merely want to check up on her. She didn’t want goblins standing watch over her and refused to allow me to use crystals to check upon her safety, so she had no choice but to agree to allowing me to drop in unannounced,” Jareth chuckled. Pulling a shimmering crystal from the air, he gave his cousin and sly wink, then dropped it at his feet, disappearing in a haze of faintly glittering purple flecks.

**~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~**

As the mists enveloped him, Jareth shut his eyes willing them to deliver him to Sarah. When he felt the mists recede from his mind and body, he opened his eyes, only to frown at finding himself in the workroom of Sarah’s cottage, with no Sarah in sight. Glancing around, his frown deepened and a wave of trepidation washed through him. It was well into evening in the Above, and judging from the deepening gloom of the room, the sun had been at rest for some time. Yet within the workroom, the lights were unlit and the fire was dark. The room itself was stifling, as was to be expected during the late summer. 

Jareth moved toward the large marble counter where Sarah worked and shook his head at the neat rows of pouches, poppets and jars waiting to be labeled.

“Blasted woman. She promised she would rest until I visited her again,” he grumbled, taking in the items scattered across the workbench surface. Sitting upon a worktop brazier was a small copper cauldron, the contents still faintly steaming, giving off wisps of mint and rose. _‘She would never leave work unfinished,’_ insisted his inner-self, as his feeling of disquiet grew further at sight of bottles carelessly spilled on their sides, their contents pooling on the worktop and dripping down the far side of the workbench. “Sarah?” he called, his features narrowing. His owl-form crept forward in his mind. In the gloom of the room his eyes shifted until they glowed a deep-amber, as his senses sharpened.

Hearing a movement from the other side of the bench, a low growl rumbled in his chest. Unbidden, a viciously sharp Elven blade appeared in his gloved hand. Years of training coursed through him, his head tilted owlishly, listening for the sound. Droppining his center of balance, Jareth crept toward the other side of the workbench, only to groan at what he saw.

 “Sarah!” he gasped. His blade vanished in an instant, as Jareth dropped to his knees beside the prone form. Sprawled on her stomach on the stone floor of the workroom, Sarah’s hair pooled darkly under her cheek. For a brief instant Jareth saw the dark tresses as blood and felt ice rush through his veins, until she moved, reassuring him that she was still amongst the living.

Torn between anger at her refusal to obey even a simple command and relief that she was still alive, he scooped her into his lap, cradling her gently. “Granisha Garran, Sarah,” he cursed, brushing hair back from her face. A coil of fear settled around his spine at how pale she looked. “You promised you would rest until I came back. I warned you that the magical crash was coming and you shouldn’t be expending your own power, just now.”

Moaning softly, Sarah cracked her eyes and blinked blearily at him. Her head lolled to the side as she tried to find the energy to sit up – and failed. “I had orders to fill,” she rasped softly, her voice like leaves rustling along the forest floor. “They won’t make themselves….”

When her eyes fell shut with the sheer effort of speaking, Jareth let a low growl rumble from deep in his chest. “Blast it all, Sarah! The orders were for my… _our_ …citizens. They would be horrified that their queen made herself ill over something so trivial.” Shaking his head, he rose and began to carry her toward the main part of the cottage, momentarily glad that he had insisted she show him around when he returned her home following the closing court for Lughnasah.

Feeling the world bob and sway, Sarah groaned, her face pinching at the sudden wave of vertigo which crashed over her. “Where are you taking me,” she mumbled, her head heavy against his shoulder despite the fact that she willed herself to lift it – a request her body was categorically ignoring.

“I’m putting you to bed, which is where I told you to be when I left you two days ago,” he snapped, then sighed at the pained expression that creased her brow.

“Don’t shout,” she whispered, her voice becoming a quiet whimper.

Jareth sighed, his voice softening even as his hold on her tightened. “I’m not, Precious. Your senses will be tender with the magical drop. So I am putting you into bed…which is where you should have been already, silly woman.” Glancing down at her face, Jareth’s lips twisted into a smile at the petulant pull of her lips, her lovely face creased into a frown. “And don’t think about getting out of that bed until I say you can, witch,” he added, with a sly smile.

Sarah cracked an eyelid, a green eye narrowing suspiciously at him. “Can you read minds? I didn’t know Fae could do that.”

With a throaty laugh, Jareth snapped his fingers toward Sarah’s bed as he entered the room. The blankets slid back, folding themselves neatly over the rolled wooden footboard. “Fae can’t, but I _can_ read that devious, Goblyn-wench mind of yours.” Jareth gently laid her on the bed, glad when she didn’t fight to get up and merely relaxed against the thick nest of pillows he conjured for her.

Sarah sighed, her eyes drifting shut as she relished the softness that cradled her. After nearly a day of laying on the cold stones of the workroom floor, her own bed was heavenly, even if that meant she had to endure the grumbled commands of the Goblin King. “What’re you gonna do to keep me here, Goblin King,” she grumbled, turning to fluff up a pillow before collapsing on several of them with a weary groan. “Station half the army at the foot of my bed?”

“Hah! As if I’d let those cretins into the queens’ bedroom!”

Jareth dropped a crystal in Sarah’s lap, relishing the startled gasp she gave when her worn t-shirt and jean shorts disappeared, replaced with a fine linen nightgown trimmed with fairy lace. “And no, if anyone is going to keep the queen in bed, it is the King,” he purred, tucking her firmly under the covers.

Pouting fully now, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and harrumphed at him. “You have no right to treat me like a child.”

Jareth bit back a laugh at the childish tantrum she was on the verge of throwing. “I have the authority on several fronts, Precious. First, I am King and as the Queen, you fall under my rule just like any other citizen of the Labyrinth. Secondly, I am King and you are my Queen, so I have the right to send you to bed should it be to protect you.”

“We aren’t married,” Sarah grumbled, knowing that as far as arguments and protestations went, this one was about as weak as they came.

Jareth arched an eyebrow at her and gave her a supercilious smirk. “Really, Sarah? We’ve been over this. You are my wife by the right of the festival. You will _remain_ my wife until Lughnasah next year. So the sooner you get used to it, the better – for both of us.”

Sighing Sarah reached out and pulled her favourite stuffed sheepdog into her arms, petting his threadbare fur. Silently she watched Jareth spin a crystal from the air, letting it dance effortlessly over his fingertips before depositing it on the nightstand, where it transformed into a silver tray. On the tray sat a huge mug curling with tendrils of steam, alongside a covered plate.

“I won’t bother asking whether you’ve eaten today, since you were wearing the same clothing you had on two days ago when I dropped you home,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Astute observation, Sherlock,” Sarah muttered, desperately trying to remain angry at him for meddling and bossing her around, but finding it increasingly difficult to remain awake, much less irritated at him for caring about her well-being. She had dated frequently over the years, but she couldn’t remember one person outside of her father or Karen who had ever taken care of her when she was sick – Jareth was the first.

Ignoring her comment, Jareth reached over and picked up the steaming mug and a spoon, then sat next to her on the bed, his armor shimmering briefly before being replaced with simple grey breeches and a loose shirt. Sarah marveled briefly at the golden badge of office hanging upon his chest, then her attention was drawn to the spoon that he held in bare hands. The lines of king-making were clearly visible, twisting from his palm up to his wrist before disappearing under the black silk, only to reappear on his chest when he moved his arm, the deep  neckline of the shirt revealing tantalizing glimpses of his bare flesh.

Jareth dipped the spoon in the hot soup and held it to her lips. “Now…surprise me for once and obey me, hmm? Eat.”

Shocked by the gentle gesture, even if it was accompanied by a clear command of the King, Sarah opened her mouth and took the bite. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but heavenly chicken stew was certainly not at the top of her list of possibilities. Swallowing the bite, she raised her hand to stop him, as Jareth lifted another bite to her lips. “Why are you doing this, Jareth?”

With a tilt of his head, he regarded her quietly a moment, then smiled, his crystalline eyes glittering softly beneath the steeply arched eyebrows. “Humans aren’t the only people whose marriage vows include ‘in sickness and in health’.”

Still marveling at that revelation, Sarah lowered her hand and obediently took the mouthful he offered her. After several more bites, she chuckled. “Are you planning to spoon feed me the whole meal?”

“Certainly not. I’ll use a fork for the pot roast.”

Rolling her eyes, Sarah tried to take the spoon from his fingers. “I can feed myself, thank you very much.”

Jareth chuckled, moving the spoon and mug out of her reach. “The fact that you _can_ is not in question, Precious.”

Huffing again, Sarah flopped back against her pillows. “So why are you insisting on doing it? Surely the mighty Goblin King has more important things to do that play nursemaid to a human.”

His eyes narrowed seriously upon her as he shook his head. “Nothing… and I do mean _nothing_ is more important than the health of the queen, Sarah.  The King may be the head of the kingdom, but the Queen is its heart. It cannot truly live without her.” When she hung her head at the somber timbre of his voice, Jareth set the mug and spoon aside. Reaching over, he gently slid his fingers along her jaw, then tilted her face upward to look at him once more. “You are the heart, Sarah. Even if only for this year.  You are the heart of the kingdom, and as such, it is my duty to protect you – even from yourself.”

Sarah nodded silently as Jareth picked up the mug and spoon once more, only frown in confusion when he winked at her.

“Besides, it pleases me to feed you. I can’t wait to feed you dessert,” he added with a devious grin.

Sarah eyed him warily. “What is it?”

“Peach cobbler.”

“Jareth…you’re an ass,” Sarah giggled, while Jareth smirked at her.

“Perhaps, but according to you I am apparently ‘One _fiiiiiine_ piece of ass’.”

**~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~**

True to his word, Jareth insisted upon feeding her every bite of her meal – even the peach cobbler. Despite her protests that she detested peaches since her taste of the enchanted peach during her Labyrinth run, Sarah had to admit that the cobbler was delicious. Within moments of finishing the last bite, she felt her body become heavy and sluggish, as if she were trying to move under water. Unable to stop the sensation, she felt her eyelids droop then close. Her body seemed to sink bonelessly into the plush pillow nest. And from far away she heard herself mutter, “No fair… you…drugged me. And…you promised…not…to do….tha………” Her voice drifted away before she could finish the thought.

Smiling, Jareth leaned over and tucked the covers back around the exhausted Champion, as he gently shifted her to lay down fully on the bed. “No, Sarah. This is not my doing but your own. You over-extended yourself and need to recover. The fairy food you ate will help, but you must rest for it to have an effect. So stop being obstinate and fighting it. Go to sleep, Precious.”

He watched her face pinch as she tried to argue, but the words came out only as a muffled grumble. Within seconds her attempt at an argument gave way to peaceful breathing. As her breathing deepened, Jareth stretched and settled into the easy chair by the nightstand. Propping his feet upon the footstool he leaned back and pulled a glittering purple crystal from the air. “Alesander,” he murmured quietly, despite the fact that he was quite sure it would take the entire Goblin Army Choir singing ‘Saints Save the Little Chickens’ to wake the poor girl up. When Alesander’s bewildered face appeared in the crystal, he gave a somber smile. “I will be detained a bit longer Above than I had anticipated. Sarah has, as usual, ignored my instructions and made herself quite ill.”

“Shall I send a healer to your location, Sire?”

Jareth shook his head. “No. This is a task I will see to myself. It just means I won’t be returning until sometime tomorrow afternoon. I trust you can ensure that the kingdom is still standing until then.”

“Of course, Sire. Is there anything else I can do?”

“No. I’ve got matters well in hand here. I’ll check-in with you in the morning,” Jareth added, before flicking the crystal upward and letting it burst without the slightest fleck of glitter.

For several hours he kept watch over the sleeping woman, paying more attention to her soft snuffles than the fantasy book he had pulled from her overflowing bookshelf. As the sun began to peek through the heavy curtains, her gentle sleep turned restless. Shifting fretfully in the bed, Sarah began to whimper and shiver, her body shuddering violently with chills and pain. With a frown he lay the book aside and leaned forward, gently pressing the back of his hand against her cheek. Despite the way she shivered, her face felt like it was on fire.

“Damn it all,” he sighed, frowning when her eyes fluttered open.

“I…huuu..huu…huuurt,” she rasped, her teeth chattering together as she shivered. “So…co…oold.”

“I know you do, Sarah. I’m going to make you feel better. I promise, love.”

Sarah’s head lolled to the side looking at him, as searing jolts of pain forced an inarticulate whimper from her throat. Blearily she watched Jareth kick off his boots and grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and dropping it on the empty chair. Confused, she moaned as he bent over and slid his arms gently under her body, lifting her up against his bare chest. “Wh-what are…you…doing?”

Carrying her toward the bathroom of the cottage, Jareth tried to ignore the fear that settled low in the pit of his stomach. The amount of magic Sarah had absorbed during the festival was sure to overload her system, so he had naturally expected her to crash when it wore off, -- but her insistence upon expending her own magic had made things far worse than he imagined. “Precious, you’ve got a fever and it’s too high. We’ve got to get it down quickly.”

As he stepped into her bathroom he frowned. The cottage was small, and so was the bathroom. For what he needed to do, he needed more room. Snapping his fingers, he let a small burst of magic into the room, watching as the room slowly expanded. Sarah’s claw-foot tub sunk into the floor and grew, until it was the size of a three person hot tub. Sarah moaned as she turned her head to look at the tub. “What…did you do? …Are we at…the castle?”

“No, love. I did a tiny bit of remodeling so I can treat your fever.” Holding her close, he watched the tub fill with water. All through the water bobbed crystalline balls of ice. “Darling, this isn’t going to be pleasant, but I need you to trust me,” he murmured, hissing as he stepped into the icy water, the chilled water soaking into his leggings and creeping up his legs.

“Ice?!” Trying to shake her head, Sarah’s green eyes welled with tears. “Jareth…please…no…I’m freezing already.”

“I know, darling. That is the fever sending mixed signals. You’re actually burning up with it. But I’ll be right here -- every moment.” Jareth kissed her forehead, then gradually sunk lower into the icy water, flinching as the water reached his waist, chilling his core. The woman in his arms jerked and cried out hoarsely when her feet touched the frigid water. Tightening his arms around Sarah, Jareth held her close to his chest. “Easy, Sarah. Here we go.”

Jareth growled low in his chest and took a bracing breath, before dropping the rest of the way into the water. The sound of Sarah’s scream echoed around the room, making Jareth’s grip tighten on her once more to ease her thrashing. After several moments, her weak protests quieted to soft sobs. Still gritting his teeth from the icy water, Jareth shifted Sarah until she was sitting in his lap, her back against his chest.  Holding her close, he murmured in her ear. “Give it a few minutes to start to work, love,” he ground out, his teeth chattering slightly together with the cold. “Then we can get out of this tub.”

Whimpering, Sarah nodded, the chattering of her teeth keeping her from answering. Jareth sighed as the water around Sarah started to heat up, drawing the heat from within her. Gradually her skin cooled against him. Sarah’s head lolled back against his shoulder as he held her. “Shh… there we go, love. That’s better.” Despite the discomfort, Jareth held her in the water until he was sure the fever had broken, before lifting her from the water.

The moment he stepped out of the tub, the two of them dripping ice water onto the bathmat, a wave of magic shivered through the room, drying both their bodies and clothing. Jareth carried her back into the bedroom, then tucked her back into her bed.

Seeing Jareth move to the other side of the bed and lift the covers, Sarah pursed her lips. “Wha…?” before sliding into the bed next to her and tucking the covers around her. “Um…what are you doing?” she asked, her voice far weaker than she expected. Trying to sit up, she felt the world swim around her, making her drop back against the pillows.

“The fever may have broken, Sarah, but the magical overload upon your body is still an issue.” Gently, but firmly Jareth rolled her onto her right side, then slid in close behind her, molding his body to hers. Sarah gasped softly, a shiver running through her at the feel of heat pouring from his body against hers. “You need magic to combat the drop, Sarah.”

“But, magic caused the overload?” Confused, Sarah tried to roll over to face him, only to find herself held firmly in position by Jareth’s warm hand.

“True, but now you are suffering from a lack of Labyrinthine magic, which you can only get from the Labyrinth…or myself,” he murmured.

Sarah felt the gentle touch of his finger running down her back through the soft linen of the shift, then gasped at the sudden feel of cool air against her bare skin. Squeaking she tried to shift, a bright flush of heat creeping to her cheeks at the knowledge that Jareth had just created an opening down the length of her nightdown. Despite her attempts to move, Jareth’s unyielding fingers held her still.

“Shhh… this is the easiest way for you to get the magic you need without risking the direct overload you would with full potency Labyrinth magic.”

Sarah felt his warm fingers lightly push the back of her shift open. A low moan slipped past her lips at the first feel of his bare chest against her naked back.  Trying desperately to control her racing heart, she found herself fascinated by the feel of the raised lines of kingship now pressing into the skin of her back. Her muscles tensed as her mind raced, overloaded with the feel of his body pressed so completely against hers. “Um…how long…do we have to do…um… this?” Hear Jareth’s low purring, chuckle near her ear, Sarah bit her lip to contain the groan that threatened her.

“A few hours I should imagine would do the trick. Now settle down and rest, Precious. Your body is weak still.”

 _‘Hah! Who can rest with that hunk of delicious male curled around you!’_ crowed her libido, while running an ongoing slide-show of all of the ways she could take better advantage of Jareth’s bare flesh against her own. “So…you’re just going to lay there and what… hold me?”

“That’s the plan,” Jareth replied, his words tinged with amusement at her reaction. “If you weren’t so weak I could think of far more _enjoyable_ ways to have skin-to-skin contact, but we’ll just save those for a time when you aren’t so fragile.” Smirking, he watched Sarah’s face burn hotly at his suggestion – sure that _this_ was a fever of a different nature. “For now, I suppose I could tell you a story to entertain you… or you could do the sensible thing and sleep.”

“I’ll take the story.”

Jareth rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Of course you would. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprise that you would continue to ignore my suggestions. Very well then…Once upon a time, there was a very spoiled girl, whose step-mother always made her stay home with the baby….”

Jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow, Sarah grumbled. “I’ve heard that one before. The villain is a total jerk. Try another one.”

Still laughing, Jareth nodded, his lips lightly teasing along the tender flesh under her ear. “Once upon a time… there was a very willful young lady, who made a rash decision and found herself to be the Queen of the Goblins…quite unexpectedly. Luckily for her, the Goblin King was a devilishly handsome fellow who was well versed in how to please a woman….”

“Oi! I want a good story, not some Mills & Boone wanna be romance-porn thing,” Sarah giggled, resting her head against his shoulder.

Feeling her snuggle back against him and relax, Jareth simply smiled. “Goodness but you are picky. Fine…but this is my last story attempt, if this doesn’t suit you, then your Highness can just lay here quietly and be consumed by her own thoughts with no story.” Settling her more comfortably against his shoulder, Jareth began again. “Once upon a time….”

“Why do you keep starting like that?”

Jareth sighed. “Because that is the way all good stories start. Now, are you going to hush and listen, or do I have to gag you?”

“I’m good thanks. Besides, gags would lead to bondage, which would lead to all kinds of things…and I’m sick, remember?”

Blinking in surprise, Jareth looked at her and laughed. “Agreed, but rest assured we _will_ discuss that little argument at a later date.” Jareth leaned his head against the pillow and tried once more. “Once upon a time, there was a very spoiled young woman who always had to stay home with the baby. But in a twist of fate she learned that she really did love the little lad. And she had a marvelous adventure in a magical world. But the course of her adventure changed not only her love of the little lad, but also herself. She learned that things are not always that they seem….that the villain is not always the villain….and that a life without magic is barren. All of these lessons helped to change the girl, and as a result she grew into a beautiful woman. One who was kind-hearted and true to her friends….” Hearing the soft, gentle breathing of the woman in his arms, Jareth smiled and gently kissed her sleeping cheek, then whispered in her ear, safe in the knowledge that she was drifting deeper into sleep. “And in an odd twist of fate, she found herself once more faced with her villain. Little did she know, that when the storybook said that he had fallen in love with her, it had been true. A rash decision on the young woman’s part not only gave him power over her, but bound her to him for a year and a day. This made the young King’s heart swell, both with adoration and pain, knowing that despite his love for her, she did not love him. So he vowed to use his time wisely, so that when the year and a day were done, she would see not only how much she was adored by the citizens of his kingdom, but by the King himself. She was not just the heart of the kingdom – she was also his own heart.”

**~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~**

Stretching lazily, Sarah rolled onto her back and smiled as the warm sun poured into her bedroom. “I don’t know what you did, but I had the most lovely dreams,” she sighed, turning to look at Jareth as he lay beside her. She felt her cheeks turn pink to find he was watching her with intense eyes.

“Oh? And what makes you think I had anything do with that? I gave my oath not to bespell you, darling. And to this point, I have kept it,” he murmured, reaching over to brush hair from her face. “However, now that you are awake and feeling better, I must take my leave.” Seeing her face fall, he leaned over and tenderly kissed her forehead, his heart swelling at the look of disappointment on her face. ‘Perhaps there is hope yet,’ he thought, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. “While Alesander is perfectly capable of keeping the kingdom standing for extended periods, there is High Court Council meeting I must attend this afternoon.”

“Oh…I see…” Sarah muttered, pulling the covers up around herself as she nodded. Plucking at a bit of ribbon sewn into the comforter, she avoided his searching gaze.

“I will check in on yor this evening, Sarah. But I want you to stay in bed and rest today.” Seeing her open her mouth to argue, Jareth silenced her with a gloved finger against her lips. “No arguments. This is an order from your king. And to ensure that you do as you are instructed, this time I am setting a guard to make sure my orders are followed to the letter.”

Hearing heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, Sarah frowned, her lips pursed. “Great…you really _are_ going to station the Goblin Army in my bedroom.”

“Not quite....” Jareth laughed, as he slipped from the bed. His casual clothing flickered momentarily only to be replaced by black breeches, boots and a sleek black shirt topped with an asymmetrical leather jacket of glistening red dragon-hide. “I thought the Queen’s Advisors would receive a better welcome,” he added, pulling the door open.

Sarah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth at the sight of diminutive Sir Didymus in the doorway, flanked by Hoggle, looking uncomfortable in a formal chamberlain’s uniform. Behind them stood  Ludo, giving Sarah a dopey grin over the top of Sir Didymus’s feathered cap.

“My Lady!” chirped Sir Didymus, scooping his hat from his head and folding himself into a flowing bow, despite the infirmity of his lame leg. “We are here to ensure your continued rest and well-being.”

Winking at her, Jareth turned his stern gaze upon the three advisors as they entered the room. “See that she remains in bed until sunset tomorrow. Jerra will be along to see to her bathing and other needs. And for the love of the seven veils, do _not_ allow any of the castle horde in to bother her! Any that show up here are to be sent to the bog immediately,” he growled, handing Sir Didymus a glowing red crystal. “Just throw that at them and it will dispatch them post haste.” Glancing back at Sarah, he smiled warmly. “As for _you_. For once, will you do me the favor of obeying me and _stay_ in bed.”

Unable to resist, Sarah returned his smile, a faint flutter twitching in her chest at the warmth in his eyes. “Yes, Jareth. I promise.”

“Hah! That is what you promised last time. This time I want your _oath_.”

Rolling her eyes, Sarah held her hand out to him. Jareth pulled his glove off and took her hand. As the center of the kingmaking lines on his palm touched her skin, she felt a silvery sizzle of magic slither into her hand. “I…Sarah Williams… Harvest Maid and Queen by Rite of the Ancient Magics, swear to remain in bed and rest, until such time that my King grants me leave to return to my work.”

Surprised, Jareth squeezed her hand, his eyes darkening. Giving her a sly smirk, he chuckled. “You know words have power in my world, Sarah. And by your own words, I could conceivably keep you in bed indefinitely.”

Sarah returned his sly grin with one of her own. “Yes, you could, but that would be breaking your oaths to me by cheating. So, I know that you _won’t_ abuse the power I’ve given you.”

Leaning in, Jareth kissed her forehead, then whispered in his ear. “Believe me, love… I won’t abuse that power… _much_.”

Before she could reply, Jareth vanished, leaving Sarah flushed and Hoggle staring grumpily at the red speckles floating in the air.

“And ah ‘suppose it’s _us_ that’s gotta clean that mess up,” he grumbled, only to gasp and splutter madly as a torrent of red glitter rained down upon him from the air over his head.

Seeing the glitter erupt from the air, giggles bubbled out of Sarah in a riotous burst. Gasping for air, she shook her head. “Jareth… that was mean…”

“Ahh…but it made you laugh…now rest woman!” came the ghostly order of the King, as the red glitter shimmered upon the air, before vanishing without a trace, leaving Hoggle red-faced and angry.

**~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~ ~J/S~**

**Author’s Note:** Okay…I’m not 100% happy with this, but it will do. Next up… Mea'n Fo'mhair (aka. Feast of Avalon)…so expect more fluff and general UST. ;) Not sure which story will get the next update as my muse seems to have gone ‘walkabout’ again. We’ll just have to see where my muse decides to direct me.

As always, please review… my life is absolutely crazy these days (I was in the hospital again this week), so reviews help me get inspired to write.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Blame It On The Rain

**Wheel of Time Ch. 11: Blame it on the Rain**

The autumn sunset set the sky aflame with shades of orange and crimson, as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. Smiling, Jareth pulled his gloves from his hands, and slowly sank down to sit upon the sun-baked grass of the hill overlooking his private orchards. In the distance, the glowing sunset cast shimmering shadows over the Goblin City, while bathing the castle in shades of gold and red. With a deep sigh of completion, Jareth lay his bare hands upon the soil, shuddering at the jolt of energy that flooded him. The second harvest was still a week away, yet the land was already crying out to him. Never in all his years, had he felt the turning of the wheel as keenly as he did this time and Jareth had a pretty good idea why.

Sarah.

As far as the Labyrinth was concerned, the Queen had been chosen and accepted her place. Therefore, the land was happy. Since Lughnasagh, the kingdom seemed to blossom. Late crops took off at an unprecedented rate, covering the land in new growth, even as the first crops were being harvested. But the change wasn’t just seen in the crops. The forests of the Labyrinth and kingdom seemed to come alive with the chattering of animals and the chirping of birds. Even the Fireys had seen their first hatchling in over a century – three in fact. The Goblyn people were also feeling the effect. The number of reported mating pairs who were now with child broke all previous records. By all accounts, come spring, the twists and turns of the Labyrinth and land of the kingdom itself would ring out with the cries of newborn babes in arms.

Yes, the Labyrinth was content in the knowledge that she had her chosen Queen --  all that remained was for the Queen to bear the kingdom a child. Of course Jareth wasn’t about to tell Sarah about that clause. He was quite sure that Sarah’s viewpoint on the matter differed greatly to that of the land. In Sarah’s mind she was not the ‘rightful’ Queen, but merely just a honorary ‘placeholder’.  For the moment Jareth was content to let her believe that; after all, he had another 11 months in which to change her mind.

Taking a deep breath, the Goblin King smiled at the hint of rain carried upon the air. In the distance, he heard a low rumble, signaling an incoming storm – the usual herald of early fall for the Goblin Kingdom. He could see the rain pouring from the dark bank of clouds off to the right, as they slowly moved forward, drenching the kingdom and crops prior to the next turn of the wheel. Slowly the oranges and red of sunset gave way to dark blue and grey clouds that seemed to blanket the sky, the clouds roiling with rain as they crept over the land. Smiling at the way the petrichor began to hang heavy in the airhe Jareth opened himself up to the land, letting the warmth flood into him through the soil beneath him. He could feel the kingmaking lines begin to pulse with the heartbeat of the land, the lines upon his skin flickering from deep goldenrod to burnt orange. All around him he could smell the scent of petrichor, dried wheat and apples, ripe and ready for picking. When the full moon rose upon the fall equinox, ushering in the Mea’n Fo’mhair festival and the Feast of Avalon, Jareth would once again fully join his land and his people as they celebrated the next spoke in the wheel of the year – and Sarah would return to the kingdom once more.

The first drops of rain skittered across the ground, making grass move and leaves jump. Then, the clouds overhead seemed to open, unleashing a pounding deluge of fall rain that drenched the land and its monarch.  Beaming now, Jareth leaned back on his hands, tilting his face upward and letting the water cascade over him, soaking him to the skin. The feel of the rain combined with the magic of the land seeping upward through his hands, truly reminded him of his vow and his place as the protector of the kingdom. He was not just the king – he was one with the land. As it should be.

Lost in the feel of the rain and feeling of inner peace that washed over him as a result, Jareth was surprised to feel the land under his hands ripple. He felt the Labyrinth’s joy in the ripple, and smiled himself.

“Interesting… our Champion has returned to us, and of her own volition,” he murmured, more to himself than the sentient form of the land. Digging his fingertips deeper into the now wet dirt, he relished the feeling  of water and soil between his fingers as he consider the implication of Sarah’s crossing the mysts. “It’s only taken her a month to make use of my gift. I’d say that was progress, wouldn’t you?”

The Labyrinth didn’t answer – directly. Rather he felt another shiver of magic run through him at his words.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Rain. And not just a light summer drizzle of warm, fat raindrops. No… this was akin to stepping into a tepid waterfall. By the time Sarah felt herself fully materialize Underground, she felt rain soaking her thoroughly. Her favourite Bowie t-shirt was plastered to her chest, while her jeans stuck heavily to her legs.

“Bloody Hell!” she growled, raising her arms from her sides and glancing down as she was drenched from head to toe. Glaring at the amulet still gripped in her hand, she seethed. “Fucking Jareth lied.”

“I did no such thing – neither the fucking nor the lying,” replied a cooly amused voice from behind her.

Whipping around, Sarah saw Jareth leaning back on his hands as he sat on the wet ground, his face angled upward – seemingly oblivious to the rain pelting down in heavy, sheets of water.  His white silk shirt was so sodden it was translucent, offering her a clear view of his chest and amulet of office. Blushing slightly at the sight of the drenched trousers that were sucking wetly to his legs, she nibbled her lip. She’d often thought his pants couldn’t get any tighter, but apparently they could. Glancing from his legs to his face, she harrumphed at the knowing sparkle in his crystalline eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, as water streamed down her body, Sarah grumbled. “You did so lie! You said this amulet would take me to your castle!”

Jareth cocked an eyebrow in challenge, while a smile curled the corner of his mouth. “Think back, little witch and I think you’ll find that my _exact_ words were that it would take you to _me_. And so it did. Here I am.” Seeing her frown as she looked around the orchard, Jareth laughed and grabbed her hand, giving a firm tug. With a yelp she fell to her knees next to him, the wet grass and dirt squishing thickly with the force of her landing.

Gasping, Sarah sat up from where she had fallen against him and tried to brush the wet dirt and grass from her hands, but only succeeded in smearing it around into a muddy mess. Grumbling under her breath she wiped the mud on her jeans.  “Honestly, Jareth. If the Goblin King doesn’t have sense enough to come in out of the rain, what hope is there for the rest of the kingdom?” she snapped, putting her hands on the ground and starting to push herself back to her feet, as the rain eased off a bit, falling in bulbous drops now.

“Don’t you have the sense to enjoy a fall rain?” he laughed, then grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled, chuckling at the startled squeak she gave as her bum plopped onto a muddy patch in the grass. “Now sit still woman and feel the seasons. You are the Queen, you need to become attuned to the seasons as the wheel turn. “

With water dripping down her face and into her eyes, Sarah sighed, looking at the mud on her hands once more and the black-brown wet patches bleeding across the knees of her jeans. “I appreciate the seasons…I just…”

“No…you don’t,” Jareth interrupted. “You appreciate them in theory, perhaps.  But you need to learn to appreciate them in practice.”

Rolling her eyes, Sarah snorted. “And sitting here in the rain with you will do that?”

Reaching over, Jareth took her hand in his and turned it over, firmly pressing her palm to the ground. “Yes. It will. Now shut your mouth. Shut your eyes. And enjoy the feel of the rain and the land.”

Jareth kept his hand on hers and leaned his head back again, facing upward with his eyes shut. Surprised, Jareth smiled when Sarah gave a deep sigh and leaned back on her hands, sitting quietly beside him.  While she was sitting there quietly, he could tell that she was blocking out the true power of the land. “Sarah… open yourself up to the land and feel the power within it,” he instructed, his tone quiet, but firm.

With a frown, Sarah pulled her hand away from his and sat up, leaning on her knees. “The last time I did that it was… unpleasant. Beside that, I’m not in the mood for another magical hangover so soon.”

Sitting up, Jareth gently wrapped his arm around her back, and pulled her against his side. “The Labyrinth will behave herself this time, Precious. And I will make sure you won’t soak up too much magic, I promise.” He felt her slowly relax into him, then nod. Taking her hand in his once more he placed it on the wet ground. Slowly he felt her open to the power in the land, chuckled inwardly when she shivered as the first tendrils of Labyrinth magic seeped through her palm. “There, see…the Labyrinth is glad to see you.”

Sarah blushed, struggling to stay still in his embrace, despite the fact that her libido was beside itself at being pressed close to a very wet Goblin King. As the magic of the land crept up her arm, filling her, she felt, rather than heard, a soft whisper in the back of her mind – “My Queen…Little Queen….Our Queen…WelcomeWelcome….” Gasping, she pulled her hand from the ground, shuddering at the odd intrusiveness of the feeling. “Does the Labyrinth always talk to you when you touch the ground? It’s really kinda creepy and… invasive to do that sort of thing without asking.”

Leaning back on his hands again, Jareth chuckled. “Yes, she does have a tendency to do that with me as well, although I’ve been dealing with it for so long that I can generally tune it out unless I need information.”

Sarah rubbed at her muddy palm, trying in vain to rid herself of the lingering ‘crawling’ feeling that tickled across her skin. “So what… you purposefully talk to the Labyrinth?”

“Of course. How better to find out what is wrong with the kingdom and the people? The Labyrinth is everywhere. She knows the status of the land, the walls and her inhabitants, and informs me when she needs my help to see to their well-being.”

Nibbling her lip, Sarah peeked at Jareth, relieved to see he was no longer looking at her, but sitting with his eyes shut and his face turned up to receive the misting rain. This was a side of the Goblin King she never imagined existed.  Looking around, she took in the neat rows of fruit trees, bushes and vines that dotted the land around the hill on which they sat. “So, is this your orchard?”

Jareth peered at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled as he nodded. “Yes, this is my private orchard. The apples are ripe enough to eat if you would like one.”

Sarah shook her head emphatically. “Oh no! You won’t trap me here that easy, Goblin King.”

Rolling his eyes, Jareth sighed. “You forget, love… I gave my vow that nothing would bind you to this land without your consent.”

“Oh…” Sarah mumbled, hanging her head sheepishly. “Sorry… I forgot…again.” Seeing the disheartened look on Jareth’s face, Sarah felt an odd sense of disquiet twist inside her. _‘Why is he sad?’_ she wondered.

“Sarah, I am not the villain you still think me to be.”

At that moment the rain began to pound once more, and a great crack of lightening lit up the sky over the orchard. The rumble of thunder shook the hill they were sitting on, making Sarah squeak and jump, until she was sitting in Jareth’s lap, her face buried against his shoulder. Without thought, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

“Easy, Sarah…it’s just a fall storm.”

Not looking up, Sarah trembled when another loud crack ripped through the sky. “I hate thunderstorms…ever since that night….”

“What night?” Jareth asked, gently rubbing her back.

“The night I met you.”

Jareth’s heart froze in his chest at her words, and he cursed himself roundly for his ‘theatric’ appearance that fateful night. Still holding her close, Jareth sighed. “Come, Precious. Allesander will have informed the staff that I will be having company for dinner. So we should get you dried and cleaned up.”

“Oh…you’ve got company tonight,” Sarah mumbled, lifting her head and struggling to get out of his lap. “I’m sorry….I should have checked in advance to see if it was okay for me to visit this weekend…I just…”

Jareth’s arm tightened around Sarah, as he silenced her with a gentle finger on her lips. “Sarah… you are the Harvest Maid and Queen proxy, you have the right to use your suite whenever you wish – even if you have no wish to see me or any other of my subjects while you are here. Using the suite or my kingdom as an ‘escape’ is fine.”

Sheepishly Sarah looked at the ground, her raven tresses streaming rainwater into her face. “How did you know I was using it as an escape?”

While his words were true, Jareth would have preferred that she visited because she wanted to be in the kingdom…or better still spend time with him. Smiling warmly, he couldn’t help himself and kissed her forehead, delighting in the slight tremor that ran through her at the display of affection. “You are the Labyrinth Champion and she has granted you powers. Those powers link you to me so I can feel a bit of what you feel, more so when you are in the kingdom than Above; but I’ve been feeling your disquiet and frustration all week.”

Tilting her head, Sarah glanced at him. “You felt that, yet you didn’t ask about it?”

“No…I didn’t. While you gave me leave to visit you whenever I should wish…within reason of course, your emotions are just that… _your_ emotions. If you wanted to share them with me, you would.” Seeing her seem to wilt a bit more, Jareth gave her a gentle squeeze. “Come, Sarah. Let’s away. You can tell me about your need to ‘escape’ and what it is you wish to escape from over dinner – or not at all, the choice is yours.”

“But… I don’t want to interrupt your dinner if you have company. I’ll just…can I… can I just have someone bring me a sandwich in my suite? That way I’ll stay out of your way.”

Chuckling Jareth stood and pulled Sarah to her feet, keeping her hand in his as he walked down the path toward the orchard at the base of the hill. “Darling, the company I was referring to _is_ you. You are linked to the Labyrinth and myself, both the Labyrinth and I ‘felt’ your arrival, so I’m quite sure the Labyrinth has informed Alesander that I will have a guest.”

As if on cue, a chiming sound rung out around them and a crystal materialized in front of Jareth. “Sire, the Champion has returned.” Seeing Sarah next to Jareth, Alesander smiled. “Ah, I should have guessed that you would already be aware of that fact, Sire. Welcome back, M’Lady.” Blushing Sarah waggled her fingers at the face in the crystal. Turning his attention back to Jareth, Alesander continued, “Since you have company for dinner, I have taken the liberty to arrange the usual dinner set-up in the formal dining room and….”

Jareth shook his head and smiled. “Cancel it.”

Alesander blinked and stopped cold, confusion etched on his face. “But…”

“No buts… Sarah has joined us to escape something or someone that is plaguing her, so I don’t feel that subjecting her to a formal dinner with the bores currently at court, would aid her in her escapism.” Seeing Sarah’s relieved look, Jareth knew he was on the right track. If he wanted her to want to remain in his kingdom, it would be far better to show her how he really lived. “I will make my usual arrangements for dinner and merely take Sarah with me. Once we’ve dried off and gotten her changed into some more appropriate clothing, that is.”

Glancing at Sarah’s now sodden and see-through white t-shirt, Alesander blushed deeply, averting his eyes. “Very well, Sire. I will let the staff know that you will not be dining with the court tonight. Although you will have to dine with them over the weekend, Sire – you’ve ignored them all week and some of the courtiers and visitors are starting to voice their offence.”

Jareth rolled his eyes. “To voice offence at the actions of the King is an offence of its own. But, for proprietary’s sake, I will dine with them tomorrow evening. It is up to Sarah whether she chooses to join or not… but that is a detail for tomorrow. Just tell them I am otherwise occupied for the duration of the evening and do not wish to be disturbed.”

Noting the dark glint in Jareth’s eyes, Alesander grinned. “Princess Grace won’t be happy that you have missed another meal – especially with her visit ending on Sunday.”

“Such a pity,” muttered Jareth, taking Sarah’s hand, then frowning as she shivered. “I need to get Sarah warmed up, cousin. Take care of things and I will see you for the usual meeting in the morning.”

Alesander nodded briskly as the crystal shimmered briefly and popped.

Tucking Sarah firmly against his side, Jareth felt his heart shudder in his chest as the woman in his arms turned toward his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and let the wave of magic slowly envelope the two of them, relishing the gentle gasp she gave against his chest as the world seemed to fold around them.

Sarah groaned as she felt stone floor under her feet once more, gradually opening her eyes to find herself standing in the Queen’s Chambers of the castle. “Ugh…does that ever get any easier?” A purring laugh met her question.

“I’m afraid I can’t say, Sarah. I started disapparating from place to place before I could walk and before I said my first words – much to the annoyance of my nurse and the dismay of my mum. Of course Father was immensely proud that I showed that level of power so young.” Rewarded by a giggle from Sarah, Jareth winked at her. “He was less impressed when I showed up in his lap during an inter-kingdom meeting – having been in the middle of having my nappy changed for a messy bum. He had the castle healer bind my powers until I was toilet-trained at least.” The gale of laughter that greeted that admission made the somewhat embarrassing truth worth telling.

Turning, Jareth nudged the bathroom door open, revealing a small goblin woman who was busily laying out fluffy towels on a bench next to a bathtub full of steaming water and pale pink bubbles which seemed to float just above the surface of the water. Sarah smiled at the welcome sight of a warm bath, then glanced at Jareth, her jade eyes twinkling merrily. “What? No offer to do the honors yourself? No rule in the vast Labyrinth rule book that says that the King must bathe the Harvest Maid or Queen proxy-whatever?”

Jareth’s hand tightened on the door handle of the bathroom as he arched an eyebrow at the teasing wench. “While I would far prefer to bathe you myself, Precious…I fear if I did we might never get to dinner and I am actually quite hungry for _food_ at the moment – so the pleasure of your flesh will have to wait.”

Sarah blushed, noting that the goblin woman didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed by the teasing innuendo flying between her King and the Champion. Shrugging Sarah turned toward Jareth and grabbed the hem of her wet shirt in her hands, slowly drawing it upward. “Well….if you aren’t interested,” she purred, flicking her tongue lightly over her lower lip. “You can leave,” she added, nudging the bathroom door shut in his face with her toe.

“No fair, wench!” called the Goblin King from the other side of the door.

Laughing, Sarah pulled her shirt fully off and dropped it next to the tub, followed by her wet jeans. “I wonder what your basis of comparison is!” she called out. “Now go away…I’m busy and naked.” Sarah could hear his growl intensify before it disappeared. Still giggling as she sunk into the thick foam coating the water, Sarah sighed happily. _‘I could definitely get used to this…both the decadent bath and sparring with Jareth.’_

 _‘You should have taken your shirt off and kissed him before kicking him out,_ ’ her libido grumbled.

 _‘Next time,’_ Sarah murmured to herself, then blushed, knowing that there would definitely be another chance to taunt the Goblin King. She knew it was a dangerous game to play with the unpredictable King, but he had promised that he would take nothing from her that wasn’t freely given. _‘The question now is whether I want to give it…’_ she mused quietly as the little goblin woman began to wash her hair, muttering about the irresponsible girl and the impulsive young king, who clearly didn’t have the sense to come in out of the rain.

**~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~~J/S~**

Still amused by the way Sarah kicked him from her bathroom, Jareth returned to his own chambers next door to the Queen’s suite and sunk into the bath that his valet had drawn. Truth be told, he had missed the free way Sarah had teased and taunted him as ‘Lady Charlotte’, so to see Sarah starting to regain that easy, teasing banter was both refreshing and a relief. Over the years, Jareth had grown tired of milqtoast women who merely simpered and blushed when he teased them. Although he hoped Sarah never would fully lose her tendency to blush when she was flustered or surprised, he did enjoy the way she teased him.

 _‘Goblyn!’_ insisted his Goblyn self, and he was inclined to agree. _‘Rashglang!’_ it screeched insistently – a sentiment he was finding far harder to continue ignoring.Standing at the door of his closet, Jareth was pulling out something to wear when there was a sharp rap on the hidden door between the two chambers, before the door was thrust inward.

“Jareth… you didn’t say what we were doing for dinner, so I hope this is appropriate,” Sarah blurted out, as she burst into the room. Seeing him standing in the doorway of his closet wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low upon his hips, she stopped cold with her eyes wide. Snapping her jaw shut with an audible click of her teeth, she spun on her heel. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!” Squeaking, Sarah darted back toward the hidden passageway.  Before she could get there, the door slammed shut. With a startled gasp, she ran her hands over the smooth surface of the door. “No fair, Jareth! Put the doorknob back and stop teasing me! I didn’t mean to burst in on you before you were dressed! I didn’t know this led to your bedroom, I thought it was your sitting room or something!”

The sound of amused laughter rang from the other side of the room. “Sarah, for the love of the Gods, take a breath, and sit down.” Seeing her turn around with her hand shielding the eyes, as she kept her gaze resolutely glued to her feet, he couldn’t help but laugh harder, while a burst of warmth seemed to engulf him seeing her flustered in such a manner.

“Sit on the bed, Sarah. I promise it doesn’t bite… and neither will I. For the moment at least.”

When she hesitated, he stepped around the bed and gripped her shoulder lightly, but with enough pressure to encourage her to sit on the side of his bed. “Sit. If it makes you feel better you can keep looking at your feet, the inside of your eyelids or the wall. Or if you wanted to watch me dress, I’d be fine with that as well,” he added, moving back to his closet.

Her libido crowed with delight at the blatant invitation, even as Sarah soundly thrashed it and duct taped its traitorous mouth shut. “That isn’t why I came in here and you know it,” the green-eyed witch grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and uncovering her face, although her gaze never strayed from the tapestry on the wall next to the hidden door. “Now just give back the doorknob and I’ll get out of here.”

Sarah could hear the sound of fabric rustling behind her, and fought the way her libido howled for her to turn around and enjoy the surely splendid sight of the naked Goblin King. The purring laughter from Jareth, send heat rushing to her cheeks once more.

“I didn’t take the doorknob, Precious. There is no door handle on this side of the passageway, as it is the Queen’s prerogative to sleep alone should she desire to do so. Thus the only handle is on your side.”

Feeling the other side of the bed dip, Sarah relaxed and turned to learn her back against the footboard, only the blink in shock. She had assumed he was dressed, but that wasn’t quite the case. ‘Technically’ he was clothed, or at least wearing leggings that looked painted on – as was usual for Jareth. But he was still shirtless, with the golden sigil hanging against his bare chest. She watched the muscles in his shoulders flex and tighten as he bent over to tug his boots on, with her libido shrieking, ‘TOUCH him! Lick him! DO SOMETHING!!!’

Sarah gulped, trying to ignore the suggestion of her wayward libido, finally managing to croak. “So…then…how does the Queen return to her room…after…”

“After sex?” Jareth finished, his voice taking on a sultry purring quality, which was rewarded by a deepening of the pink in Sarah’s cheeks. “Well, as I haven’t had a queen, I can’t really say. Although I would say that for myself, I wouldn’t be doing my job as husband or lover if she wished to adjourn to her own rooms following initimacies.”

Finishing with his boots, Jareth sat up and pulled a flowing black silk shirt on, leaving it open down the front, exposing his chest and sigil. Finally dressed, he took his time to take in the sight of her – and she was indeed, a vision. Once more she had chosen Goblyn dress, this time appearing in fine dragonhide leggings, with a black silk dress over them. The top of the dress exposed a tantalizing hint of rounded breasts, without being as revealing as the fashion of Avalon. Around her waist, the asymmetrical skirt was draped in two pieces, stopping at the top of her knees in front and hitting her ankles in back. The two silken panels slide senuously against each other, falling open to reveal shapely legs and sleek thigh high black boots pulled smooth over the curves of Sarah’s calves. Her waist was cinched with a waspie of black satin, with red velvet brocade knotwork over the top of it. Smiling, Jareth watches as she unconsciously traced the velvet pattern of his sigil which was twisted into the knotwork of the cincher.

“This was the only thing in my wardrobe, so I assumed you put it there for me to wear to dinner.”

Shaking his head, Jareth chuckled. “No, Precious. I did not. It would seem that the Labyrinth decided to dress you to suit my own choices tonight,” he replied, holding up a dragonhide waistcoat of deep red that matched her cincher. “That said, it is a good look for you. Reminiscent of past Goblyn Queens.”

“Are you sure I shouldn’t change? I don’t want people to think I’m putting on airs or assuming things,” Sarah frowned, looking down at her skirt.

Jareth reached over, gently tilting her face upward. The feel of her skin under his fingers sent a shiver of energy through the both of them, making Sarah gasp softly as she looked at him. “Sarah, you look lovely and you are definitely not putting on airs. Those that see you will see you for what you are… a Goblyn Lady.” Rising, Jareth held out his hand to her, “Now then, let’s go find some food suitable for a Goblyn woman of good reputation, shall we?” he asks.

Standing up, Sarah fluffed up her skirt and gave him a sly smirk, her green eyes flashing mischeviously. “And what would you suggest for a Goblyn woman of questionable reputation?” Sarah gasped as a strong arm slid around her back, pulling her firmly against Jareth’s chest, his low laugh purring in her ear.

“Darling… if you want a ‘meal’ worthy of a questionable reputation, we don’t even have to leave this room. And you are _definitely_ overdressed for such a feast.”

Laughing, Sarah slipped out of his arms and sashayed toward the door of his room, her skirts rustling briskly as she brushed past him. “Sorry, Jareth, but I’m hungry for a ‘filling’ meal…not a mere mouthful,” she chirped, flinging the bedroom door open and exiting into the stone hall of the royal wing of the castle – leaving Jareth staring after her in shock.

“Mere mouthful?! Mouthful?! I’ll have you know… I am far more than a ‘mouthful’ cheeky wench. Now get back here and I’ll prove it to you,” he growled, grinning as he darted after her, the sound of teasing laughter and playful growling echoing through the castle.

************

Author's Note: As always...please review. I've got the next chapter nearly done and should post it within the week.


	12. Feast of the Flesh (UPDATED AND EXPANDED CHAPTER!)

**Ch. 12 Feast of the Flesh**

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter has been SIGNIFICANTLY modified from the original version. T** **he original version was missing three scenes that I had written, but for some reason were not uploaded to the final version here. I have rewritten those missing scenes AND.... ADDED LEMONS!**

**SO...please enjoy and drop me a little review. I haven't written anything lemony for over a year, so I fear I'm a bit rusty! :)**

* * *

 

When Jareth had said he would take her with him for his usual dinner, based on the way he spoke of spending late evenings working in his study, Sarah thought they'd be sequestered there while he worked, and with her mood she was happy with the idea. Much to her surprise, when he caught up with her running through the halls of the castle, he merely swung her up in his arms and marched out the front gate of the castle with her laughter ringing against the stones. For once, she didn't bother struggling against him, he seemed content to have her in his arms and she was oddly content to let him carry her along - neither of them paying any mind to the curious looks and outright grins of the delighted Goblin City citizens who saw their King carrying the Champion through the streets. As far as the citizens were concerned, there King was clearly happy having her in his arms, and she seemed to be happy as well so for them, things were as they should be.

"Um, Jareth… we've passed the market area and pubs. I thought we were going to eat dinner?" Sarah asked, her stomach giving a mighty gurgle, spurred on by the heavenly smell of roasted meats from the pub they just passed. Through the windows she could see patrons tucking into thick slabs of meat and roasted vegetables, the thought making her stomach rumble even louder.

Winking at her, Jareth continued carrying her along. "We are going to have dinner, Precious. Just not in the market district."

"I could walk, you know."

"Yes, you could," Jareth chuckled, jostling her slightly in his arms to change his hold on her, but showing no indication of putting her down. "But knowing you as I do, darling Harvest Maid, I don't trust you not to go running off into the nearest pub and spoiling my surprise."

Laughing, Sarah draped her arm around Jareth's neck and relaxed in his embrace. "Don't Queen's usually get carried around by really muscled and sexy, half-naked men on a palanquin? I could get into that I suppose."

"Oh! Insulting your King are you, Goblyn wench?" he chuckled, flipping her over his shoulder and swatting her upturned bum sharply enough that several goblins walking down the street in front of them paused and turned back. Seeing their King with the squirming and squealing Champion over his shoulder, then elbowed each other and moved to the side, giving the King room to get by. Jareth merely smiled, giving them a brief nod, never breaking stride.

"Jareth!" Sarah squeaked again, struggling harder now. "Put me down! This is hardly a dignified position for a Queen…"

"Ahh...but as you like to remind me, _you_ are not the 'real' Queen," he laughed, bouncing her enough that her silk taffeta skirt flipped up, draping partially over her head and exposing the lean length of her legs, tightly encased in leather leggings. "Anyway...are you insinuating that _I_ am neither muscled or sexy?"

Reaching down and pinching Jareth's bum, Sarah giggled when he swatted her again. "Oh...you are both sexy _and_ muscular...and you have a cute ass, Goblin King. But you aren't half-naked."

Deftly flipping her back into his arms upright once more, Jareth paused, a filthy grin curling his lips and setting his pale eyes alight with glee. "Darling, if it would make you happy, I would gladly carry you to dinner stark naked. Of course, I can't promise we'd actually _get_ to dinner if I did that, since if I am carrying you around naked, then you are going to be sans clothing as well - fair _is_ fair afterall, Precious."

Sarah's cheeks flushed crimson at the mental image of a naked Jareth in general. Coughing, she shook her head, clinging to his neck once more. "Umm...no...no… you're fine as you are. Really."

"Are you sure? You know how much I would _hate_ not to meet your expectations of me, love."

Nodding, Sarah felt her cheeks flush further. "Positive. Save the nudity for your chambers." Seeing his eyes light up again, Sarah shook her head frantically. "No...no...I didn't mean like that...or tonight...I… ohhh! Don't go getting any ideas."

Still laughing at the way her cheeks flushed whenever he brought up anything related to sex, Jareth started back down the street. "Darling, where you are concerned I _always_ have ideas….it's just a matter of degree as to how much nudity is involved."

"Jareth!" she groaned, thumping his chest with her hand and hiding her flaming face against his shoulder.

"Well, at least let me prove that I'm more than a mere 'mouthful'?"

"Jareth!"

"But…"

"Jareth...no! Behave!"

Laughing, Jareth shifted her in his arms, one hand wrapping around her hip, his long fingers curling toward her inner thigh in a way that made her tremble. Despite the near virginal blushing and protests she gave, Jareth adored the way bits of her 'Charlotte' persona peeked through, teasing and taunting him.

As they neared the edge of the city, the sound of music began to drift toward them, twining with laughter, singing any many voices. At the edge of the forest that surrounded the city, Jareth finally set Sarah on her feet. Smiling as she fluffed her skirt and smoothed it back over her bum and legs. With a quiet smile, he offered her his hand, a warmth surging inside him at the easy way she took his hand without hesitation or question. The glow of multi-colored lanterns shone through the darkened trees, as the sun sunk fully below the horizon, blanketing the kingdom in the dusky blue-grey of early evening. From the hidden forest glen up the path, the sound of music and laughter floated upon the air.

Sarah smiled up at him, her green eyes glowing with a warmth that matched the sensation surging within him at the gentle pressure of her hand in his. "What is it, Jareth?"

"It's the Crystal Moon Fayre," he replied, walking her up the path alongside other citizens of the city, who followed the path in pairs and small groups, all chattering and laughing happily. "The Fayre is a magical carnival that travels the Underground, randomly popping up in cities and towns for only 24 hours. In my kingdom, a temporary holiday is always declared when it arrives, so that my people can enjoy the festivities."

"And the king?" she asked, her lips quirking in a sly smile, beneath hooded green eyes.

Jareth winked at her, his pale eyes sparkling with mischief, even as he raised her hand, his lips grazing her knuckles with a gentle kiss. "The King also partakes of the festivities, but usually on his own. Thus tonight is special, because I have you to share them with."

At the gate to the fayre, a willowy woman with pure white hair and bright blue eyes curtsied low, her bright blue dress momentarily brushing the leaves underfoot. "Your Majesty. We are greatly honoured by your presence this night," she murmured, her voice lilting, yet oddly soothing to Sarah's ears. "Please enter and enjoy, no charge of course for the King of these lands and his lady love."

Blushing, Sarah shook her head. "Oh...I'm not...I mean...he doesn't… we're just...friends…." she stammered.

The woman looked from Sarah to Jareth, her blue eyes sparkling briefly, as her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Might I suggest a visit to our fortune tellers, my lady. You might find the answers that you seek amongst them."

Chuckling quietly, Jareth dropped a small red pouch onto the counter of the entry booth, the faint jingling of the bag indicative of the coins inside. The woman shook her head, attempting to pass the money back to Jareth. "Thank you, Sire...but there is no charge for royalty, by order of the Crystal Moon owner."

"Then consider this a donation on behalf of the Crown and a thank you for gracing my people with your entertainments," he replied smoothly, before leading Sarah through the gate and into the heart of the fayre.

Entering the fairgrounds Sarah was momentarily overwhelmed by the myriad of sights, sounds and smells that assailed her. At the far end of the oval fairgrounds stood a bandstand, the roof twined with glowing paper lanterns. On stage, a band of dwarves, brownies, elves and even a troll playing a delicate silver flute, performed their lively song. Below the stage, revelers swirled and swung their way around three interlocked circles of dancers. Around the central ring of the fairgrounds, ranged a plethora of food stalls selling everything from the Underground equivalent of french fries and funnel cakes, to a variety of dishes that Sarah couldn't identify, much less pronounce. Behind the food stalls were three neat spokes lined with game booths and vendors, ending in a midway of sorts, with a strange (and somewhat rickety) collection of rides, that appeared similar to the carnival rides one might find Aboveground with one notable exception -- Aboveground rides didn't levitate.

"What would you like to do first, Precious?" Jareth enquired, glancing about at the many options that awaited them. Hearing her stomach give a loud grumble that was audible over the laughter, music and chattering voices, he laughed, the sound rich and full. "Eloquently put as always, love. Food it is."

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Sarah bit back a grin as she opened her mouth, knowing full well that she had Jareth's undivided attention. With her eyes upon his face, she slowly ran her tongue around the thick tip of the meat in her hands, lapping at the cream which coated it already. "Hmm… I could happily eat this daily...for the rest of my life," she purred, her own stomach fluttered at the look of unadulterated hunger in Jareth's eyes. _'Serves him right for teasing me like he did,'_ she thought, as she ran her tongue from the bottom of the thick rod to the top, moaning at the taste of it. Seeing Jareth's eyes widen at the sight of her, she arched her neck, letting her own eyes fall shut. _'And to be fair to Jareth, he was right...one taste and I already crave more.'_

Opening her eyes once more, she caught his gaze, then engulfed the whole rod from tip to base. Hearing Jareth's low moan, she smiled around the base of the meat in her mouth, then sucked deeply as she slowly pulled back, sucking the creamy sauce from it. When she reached the end, she flicked her tongue around her lips, savoring the taste, then sucking it half-way into her mouth once more and taking a deep bite with a hungry purr.

"That...was mine… wench," Jareth finally managed, his voice rough and hoarse, as he pulled the karlisha stick away from her satisfied smirk.

"I know," Sarah chirped, sitting back and plucking a deep fried potato ball from the basket sitting between them. Popping it into her mouth, she grinned at him. "But don't you know, food always tastes better when it belongs to someone else." Still giggling at the reaction on his face, and the very noticeable reaction of a more 'hidden' part of his anatomy, which was now clearly outlined in his tight breeches, Sarah watched him hesitate, before biting into the meat skewer he held in his fingers.

The two of them ate in companionable silence for some time, their hands occasionally touching as they reached for the same skewer of food at the same time. Before they had retreated to their vantage point overlooking the fairgrounds, Jareth had taken her on the equivalent of a 'food tour' of the Underground, stopping at more food stalls than she could remember and selecting a range of delicacies. By the time they climbed the hill, they each were holding a trencher filled with various fair foods, and Jareth was also managing a large 'lover's cup' of pomegranate-peach cider.

All in all, it was the best picnic Sarah had ever had.

"Do you want the last karlisha stick?" Jareth asked, his voice still gruff after her teasing.

Humming along with the song being played by the band, Sarah shook her head. "No, I've had more than my fair share. Really."

The cheerful music made her long to dance, so she contented herself with tapping her foot on the dirt as she picked up a skewer from the metal trencher between them and pulled the last sausage and cheese filled dough ball from the stick. Popping it into her mouth she purred. "Hmm… it's kind of funny, even in the Underground fair food is deep fried and drenched in sauces, or sinful sweets - not to mention delicious. You know, I have a theory..." she added, pausing to take a swig of the sweet  cider from their shared mug.

"And what's that, Precious?" Jareth asked, glancing at the brunette as she leaned against him, looking relaxed and perfectly at home here with him, and his kingdom.

"Food on a stick just tastes better," she declared, unaware of the pale eyes transfixed by the way she was sucking the savory sauce from her fingertips. Glancing up at him, Sarah grinned and nodded toward the karlisha stick he was holding. "Can I have a bite?"

Arching an eyebrow, Jareth gave her a stern look, the laughter in his tone belying his amusement. "No. I asked if you wanted the last skewer of karlisha and you said you had devoured...how was it you put it? Oh yes… 'More than my fair share'. So this one is _mine."_

"Aww...come on Jareth. Just one bite. Just a tiny, wee mouthful," she teased, batting her emerald eyes at him.

"Wanton wench, do you really think batting your eyelashes at me is going to get you everything you desire?" he chuckled, lifting the meat skewer to his lips and preparing to bite into it, only to freeze at the feel of her hand coming to rest on his thigh. Her touch was soft and delicate, as she slowly slid her hand upward, letting her fingers curl around toward his inner thigh, then stopped, just shy of his manhood, which was already twitching with anticipation of the touch.

"But Jareth…. You promised you would do _anything_ you could to make me happy," she purred, leaning closer to him. "Just one… tiny...insignificant little bite?"

Silently Jareth did the only thing he could do - he moved the skewer from his own lips, toward her waiting mouth. Verdant orbs studied his face, while his own gaze was transfixed upon her tongue. The sight of her tongue delicately flicking around the top of the skewered meat roll, lightly lapping at the garee sauce that coated it, made his mouth water from an entirely different type of hunger.

Licking a bit of the creamy sauce from the corner of her mouth, she smirked at him. "Hmm… sweet and spicy at the same time."

"Bogdamnit woman! You are doing this on purpose."

Sarah blinked slowly, giving him a coquettish smile from beneath hooded eyelids. "Whatever do you mean, Goblin King?" she purred, letting her hand slid up the fraction of an inch needed to barely graze the firm length of him, earning her a low groan of want from Jareth.

With Jareth distracted, Sarah deftly plucked the karlisha stick from his fingers and hopped up, racing down the hill with it. "It's mine now!"

Shaking his head, Jareth watched the sneaky wench race off with the last of his dinner, his cock giving a strong throb of desire at the sight of her shapely ass, even as she ran off. "That woman will be the death of me," he chuckled, waving his hand at the remains of their dinner, which vanished in an instant. "Not to mention the fact that her ass desperately needs spanking."

Jareth pushed himself up from the ground and surreptitiously adjusted himself, before starting down the hill after Sarah, each swing of his legs reminding him of the fact that he would far rather have her under him, and himself sheathed in her heat. His eyes flickered to gold, following her movements through the crowd. Nearing the ring of dancers, she easily slipped into their midst, as if she had always been part of the dancers. Jareth watched her join the steps, her feet moving with the surety of one who had been dancing them from birth, and not a woman who had only just joined the kingdom. Swirling through the intertwined rings of dancers, Sarah spun and twisted, her head thrown back, brunette tresses sweeping behind her as she moved. The freedom and joy she felt was evident in the smile upon her face and the way she quickly joined in the singing of the crowd.

Upon reaching the dancing area, Jareth stood at the edge of the moving rings, his eyes locked upon the brunette that held his heart in her hands - even though she still seemed wholly unaware of that fact. As she twirled and spun, flashes of gold and blue flickered around her, as her connection to the Labyrinth and the land sought her out, drawn by her euphoric dancing. Chuckling, Jareth shook his head, amazed at how quickly the land and Labyrinth had been attracted to her, feeding her natural magic to make her stronger. _'As gorgeous as she is, I can't let her continue...there's no telling how her own magic will react,'_ he thought, smiling as she was spun wildly on the arm of a lumbering dwarf, before joining hands with a lanky hobgoblin and spinning the other direction. Jareth watched her silently, marveling at the freedom with which she embraced the other dancers. Never losing sight of her, he counted the beats of the music, knowing them as surely as he knew his own heartbeat. One...two...three...four…. Seamlessly he slipped into the line of dancers, situating himself into the dance in the perfect position to intercept her. Seven… Eight… Nine….

The dancers spun to their left, pairing off with the person on their right. Laughing and singing along at the top of her lungs, Sarah grabbed the gloved hand to her right and let her partner swing her around. Feeling herself being lifted effortlessly and spun along with the others, Sarah threw back her head, her eyes falling shut, warmth and happiness flooding through her. As she was lowered, she opened her eyes, beaming at the partner who lifted her, only to have a surprised gasp catch in her throat. Two mismatched eyes smiled back at her, eyes that filled her dreams - both waking and asleep.

"Jareth…." she whispered.

He said nothing, but guided her through the dance, his movements graceful and fluid, spinning and dipping her in time with the music. Sarah felt a tingle of warmth spread through her, intensifying as he picked her up once more, turning her around, only instead of putting her back down and darting back into the throng of dancers, he slowly let her slide down the hard planes of his body, until the two of them stood in the middle of the ring of dancers. Panting and breathless they stared into each other's eyes - oblivious to where they were. Her heart beat wildly, feeling Jareth gently cupping her cheek, his thumb lightly caressing her. _'He's going to kiss me…'_ she thought, before all thought was chased from her mind with the tender touch of his lips upon hers, swallowing her startled moan. A warm blanket of magic seemed to wrap around them, sealing them outside of time and place for that split moment.

Breaking the kiss, he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her and leading her, still panting, from the ring of dancers. Without missing a step, the dancers parted for the King and the Champion. "I think you've had enough, Precious. We wouldn't want you to soak up too much magic again, now would we?"

Surprisingly, she didn't argue, but rather wrapped her arm around his back and let him lead her from the dancers. "So...now what?"

Jareth glanced down at her, finding her flushed face, and the way her hair grew curly with sweat to be adorable. "Well, fancy playing a game or three with me?"

Sarah giggled and nodded. "Are you sure want to play games with me after losing so badly the last time?"

Arching an eyebrow, Jareth chuckled, the sound deep and purring. "This time, we play according to _my_ rules."

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An hour later, Jareth had come to the realization that playing games of chance and skill with Sarah would never go the way he expected. His purse was 20 graplings lighter, and his dignity was quite a bit lighter as well.

From the first time he had attended the Fayre as a small child, he had been inordinately lucky at such games - but in Sarah he had clearly met his match, in all ways. It didn't matter what game they played, she won - and kept on winning. And he couldn't be upset with her, because each time she won, she only cemented her place in the hearts of his people. Each time she won a game, she selected a yellow stuffed chicken from the toys and prizes hanging around the stalls and gifted it to the nearest small child. After the first two games, word spread that the Lady of the Labyrinth was giving away gifts to children, and a pack of them began following the King and his Champion around the fairgrounds, cheering for her at each game. Any other time Jareth would have been furious to be seen by his people to lose so many games, but the fact that they clearly adored Sarah, enthralled him as much as she seemed to enthrall them.

In that hour he had not only lost 20 silver graplings, but he had lost all but one game against her - and he strongly suspected she threw the game on purpose. As it was, he had gifted her the one prize he had won, a purple dragon that seemed to breathe smoke. The last game was the most embarrassing of all, and yet, it touched him thoroughly. When she won the last game, she chose the largest stuffed black chicken on the rack of prizes and offered it to Jareth, beaming at him with a warmth he never thought he would see in her eyes. And that was how the Goblin King, who loathed all things about chickens, both real and fake, came to be carrying a large stuffed black pullet through the Fayre, much to the continued amusement of his subjects.

Linking her arm through his, Sarah leaned her head against his bicep, sighing happily.

"Are you tired? Would you like to return to the castle, Precious?"

Sarah shook her head, beaming up at him, then turning her face upward to admire the growing moon overhead, with stars twinkling in the velvet sky. "No… I don't want to go back yet. I'm happy and having fun. I don't want tonight to end."

Nodding, Jareth winked at her, dodging a group of children running toward the midway, then pulling her through the floral archway of the beer garden. Jareth found a small table for them near the back of the garden, and waved at the bar maid. "This will do for us," he said, settling her into one of the chairs before dropping into the other. A moment later the barmaid came up, sitting a large pitcher of goblin ale on the table and a lover's cup.

"We're out of mugs, Sire. I do apologize, for the inconvenience. No slight is intended," the pretty blonde hobgoblin said, dipping in a graceful curtsey.

Jareth smiled, waving a hand toward her. "No offense taken, my dear. It is not the first time that my Champion and I have shared a lover's cup, and I somehow suspect it will not be the last time." Winking at her, Jareth dropped a gold grinshot on the table. "Keep our pitcher full and bring a bowl of yarran nuts when you get a chance."

"Yes, Sire!" she chirped, picking up the golden coin and bobbing in another curtsey before darting away.

Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm with the intensity of Jareth's gaze, as he picked up the cup and raised it toward her.

"To my Champion and Harvest Maid...and a very enjoyable evening."

Seeing his throat work, as he took a deep swallow of the ale, Sarah felt her own throat tighten, her eyes drawn to the smooth arc of his neck. _'He's beautiful,'_ she groaned inwardly, her stomach fluttering when his eyes once more sought hers, the pale orbs flickering deep blue when he smiled. Swallowing against the lump that seemed to fill her throat, she bit her lip, then took the cup that he offered her, taking a long gulp to fortify herself.

Jareth sat back, watching Sarah as she watched others. Dragging her gaze away from his, she peered out the open 'window' next to them, watching the Fayre patrons. Families wandered by, with parents carrying sleeping children, while older children bounced around begging for more treats or rides on the midway. In amongst the families, couples walked by hand in hand, their minds more on each other than the entertainments available at the Fayre. Around them beer garden patrons were chatting, singing pub songs and playing games.

"Thank you for this, Jareth," Sarah said softly, still gazing out the window at a pair of lover's walking by arm-in-arm, their foreheads leaning against each other as they whispered. Feeling a warm gloved hand reach out and squeeze her own, Sarah turned to face him, her stomach fluttering again at the way he looked at her - as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. "I really needed this."

"I would hope that in time, you would come to think of my kingdom as your home as well, Sarah. You are always welcome here," he murmured gently, the truth in his words evident in his adoring expression.

Sighing, Sarah traced a finger over the worn table-top, marred with rings of spilled ale and the scuffs and scratches of hard use. "I feel guilty for using you...um...your kingdom… as an escape though. I don't usually do that to...well...friends."

Gentle fingers curled under her chin, tilting her face upward to see Jareth's warm smile, framing pointed teeth, the only 'imperfection' she had ever noticed about him, and one that she found she didn't view as a 'flaw'. "Precious, I do not feel that you have used me unfairly. You felt the need for an escape, and I am honoured that you chose to come here."

Picking up the lover's cup, Sarah looked into the depths of the amber liquid, before taking another drink. The ale was cold and oddly sweet, with undertones of peaches and spices. Different to the cider they had shared earlier, just three gulps of this ale made her insides flood with warmth, and her skin seem to tingle pleasantly.

"I'm single, like I told you when we signed the contract. but my parents are doing everything in their power to 'fix' that... like it is some problem that must be remedied," she muttered bitterly. Staying silent, Jareth watched her, letting her say what she felt must be said without interference. "They set me up with a younger partner at Dad's law firm for the annual Fourth of July picnic hosted by the firm. He was nice enough... I suppose." Sighing, Sarah shook her head and wrinkled her nose, in a way Jareth found oddly endearing. Looking at him, her green eyes shone with a despondence that made his heart ache to see. "There was no… spark, you know?"

Jareth nodded quietly, his lips quirking in a knowing smile. "I am very familiar with that dilemma, Sarah. Afterall, I am a king… a single king… therefore nobles and royals from throughout the Underground are forever pushing their daughters...and a few sons... at me as potential spouses."

"Yeah, then you probably do know the feeling," she snodded, passing the cup back to him. "Well, I went on a couple of dates with him through the summer, but there was still nothing there. No spark. No hint of desire or anything worth pursuing. So I started to dodge him. I tried to let him down gently and just come up with excuses when he asked me out, but he just never got the hint."

Chuckling, Jareth shook his head. "I've got a courtier at the castle now who is that obtuse, so I understand all too well what you mean."

Sarah gave him a sheepish grin. "Well, tomorrow is the start of the fall retreat at the lake. I know he is going to be there and my parents are pressuring me to give him another chance. I tried to tell them I was going out of town, but they called my bluff. So, I left town, but I know missing the retreat won't put an end to it. The only thing that would stop it would be…."

"Marrying someone else?"

Blushing, Sarah giggled, the sound light. "Well, yeah...that would definitely get them off my case, but getting married is a bit like using napalm to kill a housefly at this point. What I really need is just a way to get them to leave me alone about it. To show them that I can find my own boyfriend. But who has time for that? And with the contract, I can't date anyway so what is the point?" she muttered, rambling more to herself than Jareth. _'Not like I want to date anyone but you,'_ her mind added, the thought making her heart race and clench painfully in her chest at the same time.

"So take me" Jareth suggested, biting back a smirk at the stunned look on Sarah's face.

"You...what?"

Jareth shrugged, digging his fingers into the bowl of yarran nuts that appeared upon the table. Casually he tossed several into his mouth. "It seems to me that the easiest way to get your parents to desist in their attempts to 'fix' you as you put it, and put this other fellow off at the same time, would be for you to attend the retreat with someone else. And, as you are my Champion and technically my wife for the next year, it seems that the obvious option would be for me to accompany you."

Sarah studied him a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth as she considered his offer. On the surface, it was the perfect solution since she was bound by the contract not to be alone with any single male except Jareth, so having him with her would free her of the chance of being cornered by Alex. And showing up with a bona fide male instead of a 'mysterious boyfriend who can't come along' would be more persuasive where her parents were concerned. As crazy as the idea was, it had merit. "Are you that comfortable in Aboveground social situations?"

"Precious, trust me. I will charm your parents and ensure them that you are more than capable of finding a man of your own, who is far better suited to you than this fellow they set you up with."

Running her hand through her hair, Sarah picked up the loving cup and drained the rest of it. The rush of goblin ale hitting her system left her feeling fuzzy and oddly giggly. "Hm… that's...good stuff," she muttered, more to herself than Jareth. "Lemme think about it...but first… a drink."

Jareth arched an eyebrow, looking questioningly at the brunette, who was now listing slightly to the left as she sat the lover's cup down with a solid thump. "I thought that is what we were doing?"

Sarah stood up, tucking her stuffed dragon under her arm and grinning at him. "Not here. I know just the place."

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The sound of raucous laughter drifted from the dull blue door of the pub at the end of the narrow alleyway deep in one of the more 'questionable' sections of the Goblin City. From the time they left the Fayre, Jareth had been content to let Sarah take him where she would, but this...this was one place he could not allow her to go. Cringing at the sight of the glittery sign that proclaimed the pub to be 'Kingy's Knickers," Jareth stopped and shook his head. "No, Precious. Come, I will find a more suitable pub and we can continue ensuring you are completely inebriated."

"Aww come on, Jareth! I saw the sign when I was here last time. It's so silly, I just have to go in. I'm dying to know why it is called that," she insisted, dragging him closer to the door.

"Absolutely not," Jareth protested, folding his arms over his chest and refusing to take another step toward the door. Changing tactics, he reached for her hand. "Honestly, Precious, this is not the sort of place that a respectable lady should be."

Laughing, she grabbed the handle of the door. "Ahh! But as you yourself have told me, I am not a respectable lady, _I_ am a _goblyn_ lady."

Still laughing, she gave the door a firm pull, only to be knocked backwards into Jareth, as a short woman came barrelling out the door, shouting, "Lemme be ya drunken cretins! Oi! Doan tear mah dress!"

The two half-trolls chasing the woman got wedged in the door, bellowing at each other in their attempt to get to the woman. "Get back...me first...no me first...yer in my way! I saw her first!" Panting, the woman stopped in front of Jareth and Sarah, her purple dress torn and far too long for her short stature. As Sarah looked more closely, she noticed that the woman's hair was not hair at all, but a dirty string mop that was sliding off her head. Grabbing the wig and shoving it more firmly on her head, the woman turned toward Sarah and Jareth, her faded blue eyes widening upon seeing them.

"Uh...lil missy...ah… yer majesty," Hoggle squeaked, ripping the wig from his head. "I kin explain…."

Behind Sarah, Jareth groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Hoggle?" Sarah gasped, only to be distracted by a voice from inside the pub.

"I say! Leave poor Hoggle alone, you stone-brained louts! There's troll women upstairs for you," cried Sir Didymus, while whacking the half-trolls soundly around the knees with his trusty staff. Pushing his way through their legs, he turned around and berated them. "Oi! Get back! Now!"

The two half-trolls muttered, then pulled back inside the pub. Through the door, Sarah heard the strains of a bawdy drinking song and saw what appeared to be a orc-ish stripper dancing on the bar, much to the delight of the patrons.

"What the….?" she muttered, her brain threatening to give it's own version of the 'blue-screen of death' as it failed to reconcile what she was seeing.

Hearing Sarah's voice, Sir Didymus whirled around, sweeping his feathered hat from his head and dropping into a low bow. "My lady! Why are you here? This is no place for a woman of status."

"I tried to warn you, Sarah," Jareth sighed, attempting to ignore the way Hoggle was tugging at the neckline of his dress, until a large pomegranate rolled out of it, leaving him with a distinctly lopsided, false bosom.

"H-Hoggle….why...why are you wearing... _that!?"_

Sir Didymus's muzzle twitched, while Hoggle's cheeks flushed crimson. "Oh, m'lady...tis nothing but a bit of a buck's night lark for the prince of the trolls. Hoggle here was supervising them and, well….things got a bit out of hand. You see we were...."

Holding up his hand, Jareth shook his head, his words crisp and firm. "No more. Just... _go_."

"Um...yes Sire," muttered Hoggle, giving the pomegranate a sharp kick with his stubby foot, before gathering up the ragged hem of his purple dress and trudging back to the door

"As you wish, your majesty. We'll bid you good evening," added Sir Didymus, pulling the door open once more. The stench of spilled ale and sweat flooded the narrow alleyway, making Sarah's stomach lurch. Silently, Hoggle followed the diminutive knight back into the pub, letting the blue door swing shut with a heavy thud.

Wide-eyed, Sarah shook her head and looked up at Jareth, "That was….that was…."

"Horrifying?" suggested Jareth. Revolting even?"

Sarah scrubbed at her eyes with her hand, nodding her agreement. "There isn't enough brain bleach in the world to get rid of that mental image."

"While I can't offer you brain bleach, I do have something that can make it so you'd have trouble remembering your own name come morning, let alone the image of Hogsweat in a dress."

"I don't care what it is… just...yes."

"As my lady wishes," Jareth chuckled, wrapping his arm around her as the alleyway faded from around them.

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Wobbling on her feet as the world solidified again, Sarah moaned, clinging to Jareth, her eyes clenched shut against the wave of nausea that flooded her. "Whoa…. That is unnerving," she giggled, finally releasing her grip on Jareth's arms - which proved to be a mistake.

In the next instant, she lost her balance and fell. Squeaking in surprise, she braced herself to land heavily, only to find herself landing in a soft bed of pillows and blankets, which molded themselves to her, cradling her gently. Sarah blinked dumbly up at Jareth, before her gaze was drawn further upward to the domed ceiling of the room they were in. Dangling from the ceiling by transparent cords were thousands of shining objects - pocket watches, necklaces, gems, bits of glass baubles. The gentle breeze blowing in through the open arched window set the baubles swaying, filling the room with a quiet tinkling sound.

"Wow...this is…" she murmured, pulling herself to sit in the sunken pit of pillows and blankets in the middle of the room. "Um...what _is_ this?"

Amused by her reaction, Jareth opened a nearby chest and pulled out two bottles. Peering at them, he smiled and blew a layer of thick dust from them, before dropping down into the pit with Sarah. "Well, I suppose the best description of this room is that it is my… nest." He studied her reaction carefully, bracing himself for shock of revulsion, then relaxing when he found none.

"It's amazing, Jareth," she murmured, reaching out and lightly stroking his feathered cape, where it lay in the pit of pillows. "I didn't know owls collected shiny objects like magpies though."

Uncorking the first bottle with a loud 'pop' Jareth shrugged, giving her a sheepish smile. "Your ordinary owl may not collect shiny baubles, but I am Fae first and foremost. We like things that 'glitter', so even in my owl form, I am drawn to that." Waving his hand toward the ceiling, he nodded at the baubles. "I have picked up these items both in the Underground and Above. Each item reminds me of a person or a place that I have met in my role as the Goblin King. I store them here, as it is my place. No one can access this tower except me - in fact you are the first person I have ever allowed to enter it."

Sarah leaned against the edge of the pit, tilting her head upward to look at the gently swaying objects as they chimed against each other. "I...I don't know what to say...it's beautiful, Jareth." Turning her head, she beamed at him, her green eyes sparkling with tears. "Thank you." Silently looking at the items, her gaze narrowed. Sitting up she looked upar again, "Is that...that looks like my music box. That was lost when I was in college. Did you steal it?" she asked, glaring at him.

"Steal? Of course not, Sarah. Your roommate came in late one night and broke it while you were home for the holidays. Instead of confessing, she threw it out and I, well...I collected it. It reminded me of you," he replied, taking a drink from the bottle and purring at the intense warmth that immediately spread through him, making his skin shimmer with a faint purple hue.

Without speaking, Sarah reached out and took the bottle from his hand, and took a long drink.

"Go easy on that, Precious. Avalon Myst Spirits are quite potent, even for those who are used to it," Jareth chuckled, taking the bottle back from her. Sarah's head fell back and she purred when the wave of warmth hit her, leaving Jareth to admire the faint golden hue that suffused her.

Taking the bottle back from him once more, Sarah took another drink, then flopped back in cushions. Her fingers pulled uselessly at the laces of the waspie holding her waist, as she growled "Fuck, this may look hella cute, but damn it's a pain in the ass to get off."

"Would you like some help with that?" Jareth asked, plucking a shimmering crystal from the air and offering it to her.

Arching an eyebrow suspiciously at him, Sarah laughed. "Oh no...I'm not falling for that. You'd probably do something unseemly, like change me into some slinky lingerie or something."

"So suspicious of me still, Precious?" he chided her, letting the crystal float toward her. "Merely stare into the crystal and think of what you would like to be wearing. The crystal magic will do the rest."

Sarah nibbled her lower lip a moment, watching the crystal bob gently in front of her, then shut her eyes to make her wish. _'I want to be more comfortable with Jareth,'_ she thought. Next to her, she heard Jareth start to laugh, the sound low and rich, sending a throb of desire through her core. Feeling a cool breeze swirling lightly over her legs, Sarah opened her mouth and glanced down, gasping at the realization that she was wearing the shirt he had been wearing moments,nothing else save a pair of lacy knickers that left little to the imagination.

Still chuckling, Jareth smiled at her, running his hand over his suddenly bare chest and stretching out his legs, now covered in his favourite pair of loose linen lounging pants. "Well, well, well...your desires are rather _interesting_ , love."

Blushing, Sarah grabbed the bottle from his hand again and took another large swig. "So, is there anything you can drink that actually affects you?" Seeing Jareth's dark grin, as he lifted the other bottle from where it sat on the edge of the pillow-pit, Sarah gulped, taking another long drink of the Myst Spirits, then gasped as the power flowed through her again. "Bring it, Goblin King. I hate getting drunk alone."

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The kitchen was the domain of Annilesse and everyone in the castle knew that _nothing_ went in or out of the kitchen without her knowledge. During the day, she ran the kitchen staff with an iron fist, worthy of the Goblin King himself. Without guests, the castle kitchen served over 500 meals each day, when there were guests in residence they might serve 1500 per meal time and it was up to Annilesse to ensure that each plate met her exacting standards. She tracked individual preferences for all regular guests and the Goblin Court, as well as keeping tabs on the food served to the castle staff and military. In short, when it came to the Goblin Castle kitchen, Annilesse was the queen.

Checking the watch hanging around her neck, she nodded as the last gongs of the clock in the hall chimed the hour. Thirteen o'clock. It was her favourite time of day - late enough that the castle was quiet, which left her time to prepare for the next day.

She'd seen many things over her 50 years in charge of the kitchen of the Goblin Castle, but the sight of the Goblin King and the Champion attempting to sneak into her kitchen, drunk and half-dressed in the middle of the night was something she never thought she'd see. At ten minutes past thirteen, the door to the kitchen creaked open and the Goblin King backed into the room, wearing nothing but a pair of lounging pants. From her spot at the desk alcove in the corner, Annilesse watched him slip into the room, his finger to his lips as he loudly whispered, "Shh… be quiet… you'll wake Annilesse."

"Who's that," asked a light feminine voice. Chuckling, Annilesse watched as the Labyrinth Champion followed the King in, dressed in what appeared to be his shirt and little else.

The Goblin King peered around furtively. "She's head of the kitchen and she is a dragon about what happens in here. This is her lair. We must be verrrrrrrry quiet," he muttered, then promptly tripped over a stack of pots, sending them clattering to the floor. Wildly he waved his hands at them, 'shushing' them as if they had a choice in the amount of noise they made when they fell onto the heavy stones of the kitchen floor. 

"Ohh...that looks yummy," Sarah purred, getting distracted by a basket of cookies, before spying several platters of pastries and pies.

Nodding, the Goblin King handed her a basket and started to load it with cookies and pastries. "She makes the best shortbread and ankalla sponge cake in the whole of the Underground."

From her spot in the alcove, Annilesse bit back a laugh watching the King and his lady pilfer her neat kitchen. Within minutes they had collected a basket of baked goods, two roast chickens, the remains of a loaf of sausage cheese bread, a bowl of cherries, half a blackberry garranock pie, a large bowl of pudding, another of chocolate sauce, and a serving dish filled with trifle. Biting her lip, Annilesse covered her hand with her mouth to stifle the laughter welling up inside her, as the two of them bickered over who was being too loud, as each of them had either dropped a plate or stumbled over the scattered pots, sending them rolling and clanking over the floor. A few minutes later they 'snuck' back out of the kitchen with their haul of food -- leaving the kitchen dragon and head cook Annilesse free to burst out into the gale of laughter she had been holding in. 

"She will be good for him," she chuckled, picking up the pots and stacking them up once more. "I should dig out the my mother's book of recipes for pregnancy and babes at breast -- if these two keep up at this, I suspect I'll be needing it before the year is out."

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"Shh...you'll drop the trifle!" giggled Sarah, as Jareth stumbled over the edge of a carpet, of yet another long hall of the castle.

"Hush wench! You just mind your own booty and let me mind mine!"

"But I like your 'booty'," Sarah snickered.

"Loot...I meant loot!" snapped Jareth, as he leaned against a windowsill, blinking owlishly down each of the branches leading from the current junction. "Stop distracting me or I'll have no choice but to ravish you in the halls."

Watching him look confused down one hall, then the other, Sarah giggled. "I don't believe it! You're lost. In your own damn castle!"

"No I'm not," grumbled the Goblin King, grabbing a the bowl of cherries that was threatening to fall from its precarious perch atop a stack of platters and bowls. "It's this way. I'm sure now." Turning to the right, he headed off up the hall, leaving Sarah trailing behind him trying to balance her own stack of dishes.

"Are you _sure_ you can't do magic?" Sarah laughed, looking around. "I'm pretty sure we've been down this way already. See… there's the cherries you spilled the first time you dropped the bowl."

"I already told you...I can't. That's the problem with the Bogwater Ale, it removes Fae magic for up to 10 hours."

Grasping the basket tighter, Sarah tried to balance the bowl of pudding on top of it, as she staggered down the corridor after him. "So why'd you drink it?!"

"Because you bet me that I wouldn't! You told me I didn't have the 'crystal balls'," Jareth whispered, the timbre of his voice echoing down the hall in a way that would've woken even the Wiseman from sleep.

"Yes yes...well done you...now you have no magic. And now we're lost."

Jareth grumbled, shaking his head as he blinked down the next hall. "No...well...yes....but damnit I drank it! I won the bet."

"Yes, you have very big, magic crystal balls, Jareth. In fact, you have the biggest fucking crystal balls in the whole world," Sarah laughed.

"And don't you forget it, love!" Jareth nodded in agreement, only to groan as the world seemed to spin and dip uncomfortably around him. Unable to stand the wave of vertigo, he listed to the left, slamming against a door as he tripped over his own feet. "Fuck!" he yelped, dropping to his knees, but managing to keep hold of the platters and bowls.

"Not tonight, Your Majesty...I'm too drunk," Sarah quipped, then giggled at the triumphant grin Jareth gave her from his position on the floor.

Holding his platters and bowls carefully, Jareth beamed at her. "See! I didn't drop anything!"

In the next instant the door he was leaning against was jerked inward. With an undignified squawk of surprise, Jareth tumbled backward, sending cookies, cherries and bread rolls scattering across the floor. "Damn… there go the cherries again," he mumbled, blinking blearily up at the woman in the doorway.

Unable to stop her laughter now, Sarah leaned against the opposite wall, the sound of her giggles echoing up and down the hall. "S-sorry… but you look...r-r-ri-ridiculous," she stammered, sitting the platters and bowls she was balancing on the table next to her and trying to pick up the things Jareth had dropped.

Glancing down at Jareth, the woman in the doorway pulled her nearly translucent pink robe tighter around her, the sheer material doing very little to hide her slinky pink negligee. Even in her inebriated state, Sarah could see the open hostility with which the woman glared at her, before turning her attention to Jareth still sprawled at her feet. "Oh Jareth, I was wondering when you'd take up my invitation to visit my chambers," she cooed.

Jareth snickered, and pointed upward at the woman, while grinning at Sarah. "She sounds like a har...harpy," he giggled inanely.

Oliviana's gaze narrowed upon Sarah, her lips pursing as she took in what the brunette was wearing - as well as what she was clearly _not_ wearing. "And who is this then, darling? I suppose she is the reason you missed dinner?"

Pushing himself to sit up in the doorway, Jareth beamed at Sarah and nodded. "She is indeed. Best decision I've made in weeks, in fact!"

"So who's the bitch?" Sarah asked, stumbling as she tried to stand straight up despite the fact that the castle floor seemed to be lurching at a very odd angle -- or maybe it was her head that was lurching. It took her three tries before she managed to put her hands on her hips and glare drunkenly at the woman in the doorway.

"Thatsh Oliviana… princess of some lesshhherer noble," Jareth snickered, his tongue feeling heavy and slurring his words. "She's got deshigns on being the Goblinish Queenie."

Pursing her lips, Oliviana frowned, the sultry purr of her voice at odds with her stormy expression. "Jareth darling, if you wanted to have a roll in the hay with a castle maid, you should have just told me. I've said a million times that I'm happy for you to have your little.. _flings_ with goblyn wenches. I totally understand it, my father did the same thing. Just let me know next time. And really, Jareth… when we are married I must insist that you confine your flings to your silly 'nest'"

A flash of sadness settled in Jareth's eyes at her words. Seeing the despair upon his face and hearing the insult in the other woman's words, Sarah felt a sudden burst of anger burn inside her. Picking up a bowl of chocolate pudding, Sarah straightened up and stalked toward Oliviana, stumbling slightly as she moved. Her green eyes flashed with the force of her anger, seeming to glow in the dim corridor. "Oi! Listen up , bitch tits! His nest is fucking marv...marv….majestic you..you... fairy fucktrumpet!"

Jareth spluttered and laughed, slapping Oliviana's calf in his mirth. "Fairy...fucktrumpet...oh fuck me...that's brill...brill... great!"

Oliviana's jaw dropped and her eyes widened."Who do you think you are to talk to me like that! Jareth!," she snapped, nudging him with her foot. "Are you going to let some servant wench speak to me like this?!"

Before Jareth could speak, Sarah stepped right in front of Oliviana, her green eyes snapping furiously. " ** _I_** am not some servant wench! _I_ am _the_ Harvest Maid and _I_ am the only one he'll be married to for some time, so you can just fuck right the fucking fuck...off!" Sarah yelled, raising her hands and dumping the bowl of pudding on Oliviana's head. The pudding gave a sickening 'slooshing' sound as it slid out of the bowl, and landed on top of her head. Roaring with laughter now, Jareth and Sarah watched as thick globs of pudding oozed down the sides of Oliviana's face, clinging wetly to her braids. Oliviana opened her mouth, but said nothing, save for an outraged shriek, before she slammed the door, knocking Jareth flat on his face in the middle of the hall.

Pulling himself up, Jareth bent over to collect the scattered bowls and platters of food, still laughing as the two of them began to stagger up the hall once more in search of his nest. "It may have been a waste of good pudding...but I'd pay money to see you do that again…."

"Sorry lover-boy...I'm saving the last of the pudding...for _your_ head…" Sarah giggled, steadying a wobbling bowl of pudding with her chin.

Jareth's eyes lit up as he grinned at Sarah. "Ohh...which one…"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

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Still giggling at the sight of Oliviana Grace covered in pudding, Sarah and Jareth continued their way through the castle, snickering and loudly entreating each other to 'Shush! You'll wake the whole castle' in stage whispers that echoed down the stone corridors. After several more false-starts, dead ends and circular paths which left Jareth cursing the Labyrinth and her sentient castle for making him look daft (much to the continued amusement of Sarah, who was sure she felt the castle giggle at the King's outburst), the two finally found their way back to Jareth's chambers – having given up on ever finding his nest until they were sober.

Along the way they lost a basket of cookies, one-by-one up the stairs leading to the Jareth's 'nest' - which they nearly found, were it not for the fact that Sarah dropped a round loaf of bread which bounced back down the stairs and into the lower hall. By the time they go to the bottom of the stairs and retrieved it, they had forgotten where the stairs led and turned around back down a different hall. Somewhere along the way they also lost most of a bowl of chocolate pudding, a number of cherries from another basket, half a roast chicken (which was set upon a vase while they argued about where the wrong turn was, then promptly forgot about it when they decided on a new direction), and several cream puffs that fell off a precariously balanced plate, to roll down the stairs leading to the royal wing of the castle. Lost in their laughter, neither one noticed the trail of goblins following them through the castle. Now and then several of the mob would pause to devour the cookies and other treats almost before they hit the ground. As far as the youngest members of the goblin horde were concerned, having the Champion in the castle was not only improving the King's mood, but their eating habits as well.

When the inebriated and noisy pair finally reached the King's chambers, the doors flew open, which the goblins took to be their signal that the moving feast was officially at an end.

"That was glorious," Jareth chuckled, setting the food out on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"And far better than the horrible woman deserved," he added, wiping a smear of pudding from his bare shoulder.

Seeing him raise his hand to his lips to suck the bit of whipped cream and trifle from his finger, Sarah impulsively reached over and grabbed his hand. With her libido cheering in the background, she caught his gaze with hers, her green eyes flashing darkly as she slowly wrapped her lips around his finger, suckling softly. A low groan slipped past the Goblin King's lips at the feel of her lips and the gentle, but firm sucking, which made his groin tighten sharply with want. Dropping to her knees on the plush carpet next to the food that had survived their journey to the King's chambers, Sarah pulled Jareth down with her, only to release his finger with a loud pop.

"Hmm…tasty. But still just a mouthful," she giggled. At the darkly blazing look from the Goblin King, she felt her blood sing within her, managing to hold only a last shred of self-control at the look of sheer hunger that he gave her. "Here, try a profiterole." Plucking one of the pastries from the caramel covered crockenbush, Sarah held it to his mouth – only to fight back a moan of her own as he delicately engulfed it with his lips, the velvety softness of them lightly teasing her fingertips.

' _Danger…Danger….'_ Screamed the warning claxon in her head as she looked into the black eyes of the Goblin King – an aura of unmitigated desire shimmering around him.

Unfortunately, it was a warning that was soundly thrashed by her libido in favor of a more brash (and potentially dangerous) course of action. Glancing at the sticky sweetness of caramel still dotting her fingertips, Sarah clucked her tongue, her pursed lips drawing the attention of the already heated Goblin King. "Naughty boy…no more treats for you if you don't finish them off properly," she scolded, her voice dropping to a sultry purr as she held her sticky fingertips up to show him.

Jareth's eyes darkened further at her double-entendre. Before she had a chance to pull her hand away, he swiftly grasped it, his gloves seeming to melt from his hand the moment it wrapped around her slender wrist. The feel of his skin against hers sent a shiver of power through them both, resulting in twin moans of desire.

"I assure you, Precious… I have never yet left a woman _wanting_ in my chambers. I _always_ finish them off, properly – and at great length." With those words still ringing in her ears, he sucked the first fingertip between his lips. Jareth felt his blood roar in delight in the way her eyes widened in surprise, just before they nearly rolled back in her head. Releasing the first finger, he delicately flicked the tip of his tongue around her second finger, teasing her until her eyes opened again. Once the emerald gaze was once more transfixed by the path of his tongue around her fingertip, he wrapped his lips around the sticky digit and gave a slow, firm pull upon it. A low whimper parted the air between them, followed by a soft rumble of amused laughter from the Goblin King. "And what else does my lady desire of me, hmm?"

Sarah's libido was so beside itself at the invitation it could do nothing but flash images of a naked Jareth and Sarah in his bed in any number of compromising (and assuredly pleasurable) positions – leaving Sarah's self-control to make the only reply it was capable of, "Hurreakrph…."

Chuckling at the inarticulate reply from Sarah, Jareth released her hand in favor of picking up a nearby bowl of trifle. "Clearly, what you need is more food, darling." Jareth twirled his fingertips through the thick vanilla custard and gooseberry jam, scooping up the delicious concoction on his fingertip. "Open wide, Precious…this is definitely more than a mere mouthful."

If he expected her to continue in stunned silence, he was sadly mistaken. Blinking, Sarah's green eyes flickered impishly and she grabbed his hand, and without hesitation engulfed not just the one finger carrying the load of trifle and jam, but three fingers. Jareth's breath caught in his chest at the feeling of her tongue sliding languidly over the fingers, caressing them. "You… are _no_ …blushing maiden," he murmured, the growled as she nipped the underside of his finger, worrying it lightly between her teeth.

"I never said I was," the green-eyed witch purred, then flicked her tongue over the bite. "Why? Did you expect me to wait for a fairytale king to woo me?"

"I tried to woo you, woman."

"No you didn't, Jareth. I was only fifteen. You offered me pretty promises," she replied, with a shake of her head. Pale blue eyes narrowed, watching her swirl a spoon through the nearby bowl of chocolate "And afterward, I was convinced you hated me, so waiting for you was just a fleeting thought." Jareth blinked in silently shock at her words, although she seemed not to register their importance, continuing on as she picked up the chocolate covered spoon and smiled at him. "Just because I won't fall into your bed to be your latest conquest now, doesn't mean I'm untried.

The thought of her thinking she was a mere conquest made Jareth's goblyn howl, his eyes darkening in anger at the thought of anyone treating his Queen in such a manner. "Have I ever treated you as if you were a mere conquest, Sarah? You are my Champion. The chosen Queen of the Labyrinth. You are no one's mere conquest – least of all mine."

Her eyes caught his in challenge, a sly smile quirking the corner of her lips. "Good. See that you remember that," she purred, then drizzled the chocolate sauce along the bare flesh of his collarbone, Emboldened by the stunned look on Jareth's face, Sarah leaned closer to him, her hand sliding up his chest. "Did you know that chocolate is thought to be an aphrodisiac in the mortal realm?"

The moment her tongue touched the chocolate, Sarah felt a burst of warmth rush over her like a wave caressing the shore, the sensation driving her fingers to curl, her fingernails dragging lightly over his chest. Judging from the low growl that rumbled in Jareth's throat, he was not immune to the wave of magic. It pulsed and flared around and through them with each delicate flick of Sarah's tongue. As she began to suck the chocolate from his flesh, Jareth groaned, one hand coming up and cupping the back of her head gently, while the other wrapped around her, pulling her to him. Purring at the feel of his touch, Sarah shifted into his lap, her legs wrapping naturally around his hips. Languid, chocolate-coated kisses made their way from his collarbone to shoulder, then up the taut tendon pulsing at the side of his neck.

"Hmm… I can't speak for you, but the chocolate seems to be working for me," Sarah murmured, her voice a soft, velvety purr that vibrated against the tender skin under his jaw.

His arm tightened around her back, as the hand caressing the back of her head threaded through her hair and pulled her head back, arching the slender column of her neck and making her moan. Jareth's eyes blazed darkly, the deep blue flickering with the intensity of his desire. His words, when they came, rumbled deep in his throat. "I'm rather fond of it, too."

"But you haven't tasted it yet…" she teased, only to give a throaty whimper when he pulled ever-so slightly on her hair, arching her neck as he forced her head back further.

"An oversight I plan to remedy, immediately."

Sarah gasped at the feel of warm chocolate sauce drizzling along her the arched length of her neck, a silver spoon hovering in mid-air. "No fair using magic," she panted, her protests disappearing as his lips began to caress their way along the sticky swirls on her skin.

"Darling…I assure you… no magic…is being used… to bend you…to my seduction," he purred between licks and teasing kisses. Nipping at the tender flesh of her throat, he was rewarded with a needy whimper from the woman in his arms. "You will give in of your own…free will, Precious." His grasp was firm, holding her to him, while giving her room to move – and move she did, squirming and rocking against his body. Each warm push toward his hips made his groin tighten and throb with the want of her, the growl in his chest deepening in return.

"Oh…God," she gasped, feeling the muscles in her thighs already pulling tight from the delicious sensation of her body rubbing against Jareth's. Deep down a muted alarm rang in her mind – the danger of her position readily apparent by the teasing 'throb' of Jareth's flesh. Ignoring the warning claxon, Sarah threaded her fingers through the wisps of his hair, dragging his lips up to hers. "We shouldn't."The burst of magic that ran through her at the feel of his lips against hers made her gasp, only to find Jareth taking advantage of her parted lips, his chocolate-coated tongue teasing past them to thrust against her own tongue.

Jareth's hands slid further down her hips, gliding over the gentle curve of her bum, before finding bare flesh – and earning him a longing moan of pleasure from the woman in his lap.

"Definitely…not," he murmured, sliding his hands back up again, under the silk of the shirt that covered her. "No…we shouldn't." With his hands splayed against her lower back, he slowly lowered her back onto the soft rug by the fire, between the abandoned and partially-empty bowls and platters of their late night feast. Still kissing her, his hips nestled comfortably between her thighs. A low groan rumbled in his chest at the feel of heat pouring from her. He wanted nothing more than to snatch the thin silk aside, vanish his linen trousers and sink fully into the wet heat of her. The moan that she gave and the way that she pushed back against him nearly undid his resolve, his hips pushing forward to meet hers.

Breaking the kiss, Sarah's hand came up, flat against his chest, her green eyes dark with desire. "No…no… we can't do… _that_ …"

Still panting, Jareth nodded, kissing her tenderly as his hands slid out from under her back. "You need release, Precious. Your body is screaming for it," he sighed, forcing down the desire to have her fully, despite the way his goblyn howled it's need for her.

Sarah steeled herself for argument from Jareth, as judging by the thickness now nestled tightly against her, he wanted her as much as she wanted him, only to be surprised when he rested his forehead against hers. "As much as I would gladly have you screaming under me, Precious. I want you when we are both sober enough to remember it fully." Smiling, Sarah ran her fingers through the fine wisps of cornsilk hair, her fingers grazing along the slightly pointed tips of his ears, making Jareth groan and tremble.

A needy growl rumbled low in his chest as he raised his head, his pale eyes dark, boring into hers. "There are other ways to give and receive pleasure," he murmured, trailing heated kisses along her jaw to her ear. "At least…let me give you that."

"But….what about you?" she moaned, arching against his body involuntarily when his lips found her pulse-point and sucked firmly upon it.

A gasping whine slipped past her lips when Jareth nipped her earlobe, his fingertips brushing across her silk-covered nipple. The heat of his finger against the cool feel of the silk, making her shiver. "For tonight, let me worry about you…and you alone, Precious."

Writhing under his touch as her nipples pulled taut at the teasing touch, Sarah struggled to think of reasons why she shouldn't let him continue. "That's…oh Gods….that's not fair…to you."

His voice purred deep into her mind, sending a warm rush of lust through her, as he chuckled. "I wonder what your basis for comparison is."

With that her protests faded away - and so did coherent thought. With just those few words, Jareth rendered her protests null and void, leaving her a mass of nerve endings, aware of fleeting thoughts as her body burned with his touch and the need for it. His lips returned to hers, kissing and nipping at the fullness of them, teasing them open to plunder the warm depths, while his fingers skillfully loosened the laces that barely held his shirt upon her body. Slowly he kissed and licked along her throat, teasing the tip of his tongue around her collarbone, which elicited a longing whimper from Sarah. His low purring chuckle vibrated against her flesh, each kiss and nibble working lower until Sarah felt his warm breath wash over her nipple through the silk, the sensation so powerful her fingers tightened in his hair.

The heated warmth continued, until her nipple was suddenly engulfed by his lips, the feeling forcing an inarticulate moan from her throat, as her body arched toward him. His lips and tongue worked the nipple through the now sodden silk, flicking around and over the sensitive bud, each touch making it tighten further. Releasing the nipple, Jareth peered up at Sarah, smirking at the way her hands freed his hair, falling limply beside her head. Her eyes were shut, while here mouth hung open, panting and moaning. A rumbling laugh teased across the wet silk, now stuck to her nipple. "If that is what my mouth on your nipple does to you, on a regular night, I can't wait to see what it does during a mood festival."

Sarah merely moaned, when he gently kissed the hollow between her breasts, before gasping sharply when his fingers curled into the silk over her other nipple, pulling it aside. The cool air teasing the pink bud made her whine, only to cry out when the cool air was replaced by the searing heat of his mouth. While his movements started gentle, they soon intensified, the sucking growing steadily until she was caught on the precipice between pleasure and pain, a place she had never experienced.

"That….that...oh...it hurts…" she panted, her fingers twisting into the thick fur of the rug on which she lay. In response, Jareth grazed the taut nipple with his sharp teeth, making her cry out once more, her words rough as they tumbled past her lips. "Oh God...don't stop!"

' _As if I had any intention of doing so,_ ' he laughed to himself, biting her nipple harder and drinking in the rapturous cry she gave. _'It seems my darling Sarah is more goblyn than first suspected...she likes a bit of pain with her pleasure.'_

Writhing from the feel of his mouth on her nipple, Sarah whimpered her head thrashing from side to side when his skilled fingers pinched her other nipple. Between the sucking and the pinching, she was awash in a wave of sensation that flowed through her. The magical surge from his touch was constant, making her skin tingle and buzz. Each burst of pleasured pain sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. Without thinking, she ground her hips up against the hardness of him, moaning at the friction against the sensitive pearl between her thighs, the sensation starting the delightful itch inside her. Jareth pinched her nipple tighter, his hips resting heavier against her, rocking to the perfect angle so that each movement of her body ground the tender bud against him through the lace of her knickers. The more he pinched and bit her nipples, the harder it became to hold back.

"Stop fighting it, Sarah," Jareth ordered, his words low and hoarse with his own need. "Just...give in."

Gasping as he bit the other nipple sharply, pinching it firmly between his teeth and sucking upon it, Sarah felt the itch begin to throb inside her. One thought flashed through her mind in a voice she clearly recognized as Jareth's. "Come!" it hissed, the sensation of his voice in her mind, combined with the random bursts of pleasure and pain from her nipples undid her. Crying out her pleasure, Sarah arched deeply under him, her body shuddering from head to toe as the magic surged between them. Wave after wave of pleasure pulsed from her nipples to the core of her, until she collapsed, panting and moaning softly on the rug.

Time ceased to have any meaning to her. In that moment, there was just the remnants of pleasure and pain still teasing through her body, and the feel of magic still tickling her flesh from where Jareth lay against her. She was vaguely aware of being moved, then nestled into something soft and warm. When she opened her eyes once more, moaning at the pleasant throb between her thighs, she felt Jareth wrapped close to her, his arm over her stomach as he tenderly stroked the side of her breast.

"That was… wow…" she mumbled, her eyes falling shut once more as a sudden desire to sleep hit her. "I didn't know...I could… come...from that…"

Leaning toward her, Jareth kissed her gently, leaving a trail of light kisses from her lips to her ear, his words a quiet purr. "You flatter me, love. But if you think that felt good...just imagine what it will feel like when I bed you properly. For now… sleep."

Not that Sarah needed the prompting - she was snoring softly before the last syllable left his lips.

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Checking the watch hanging from his belt, Alesander smiled to himself, his sure footsteps echoing as he walked briskly down the hall leading to the King's chambers. One minute to six. If nothing else, Alesander was punctual. While His Majesty might not care much for the pomp and circumstance of court, but he did prefer to see to the matters of the kingdom first thing in the morning, and as the chief advisor and steward of the castle, it was Alesander's job to see to that wish – so he did. Every morning, he would enter the King's chambers to wake him, with a kitchen server following obediently behind bearing the King's breakfast. Pausing in front of the ornately carved door at the end of the hall, Alesander drew his fingertips across the door to the King's chambers, just as he did every day.

After walking in on the king more than once in a somewhat 'compromising' position, Alesander had finally requested that the King enchant the door, so that if he were 'entertaining', the door would refuse to open. With a muted click, the door unlocked. Alesander pushed it open, sending the kitchen server and housekeeper in ahead of him. There was a faint clatter of cutlery, as the breakfast tray was set upon the table by the fire. Breezing through the door, Alesander nodded, at the server, releasing her to her other duties, only to trip over an empty bowl, sending it skidding under a chair. Frowning, he glanced about, finally taking in the empty and partially-eaten platters and bowls scattered around the room.

"Florina, go ahead and collect these dirty dishes and return them to the kitchen. It looks like His Majesty had a bit of a late night feast." Giving her a sly grin, he nodded as the bowls clattered together, "Don't worry about making noise. He needs waking up anyway," he added, waving a hand at the heavy canopy curtains that surrounded the king's bed, sending them flying to the four-posters with the loud rattle of curtain rings. Twin groans from the bed drew his attention.

"Good morning your Majesties," Alesander chuckled, finally noticing the brunette tresses entwined with the cornsilk fair strands of the Goblin King's across his own pillow.

"Go away," Jareth ordered, a wave of his hand and sending the heavy draperies flying around the bed once more. The sound of the curtain rings rattling on the railing made both the king and the woman snuggled up next to him, groan in pain. Rolling over, he wrapped his arm around Sarah more tightly, purring in her ear, only to hiss at the sudden light that assaulted them once more, as Alesander pulled the curtains open again– the room now filled with light from the balcony.

"Can't you bog him?" Sarah muttered, rubbing her sore head and burrowing her head lower into the pillows.

"I could, but Bethan would have my guts for garters if I did…and of the two of them, I rather like her," Jareth grumbled, then groaned as Sarah wriggled her bum back against him. "Careful, Precious. I'd rather not break my oath and ravish you without your full and willing consent, but you are making it quite hard."

"Yes…I can tell. And you're one to complain, your hand is on my boob."

A low purring laugh rumbled in Sarah's ear. "Yes, it is and I rather like the feel of it. Mind you, it's a bit late to start complaining about where my hands are wandering to. You certainly didn't object in the middle of the night."

Smiling to herself, Sarah's cheeks burned, as blurry images of snogging Jareth in the middle of the night flickered through her mind. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea and in fact, it had been wonderful.

Alesander cleared his throat, waving his hand toward the bathroom to start the bath. "Well, as delightful as this little 'domestic' scene is, you have meetings in one hour Sire."

Listening to Jareth muttering curses under his breath, Sarah giggled, turning her head toward the pillow. Sniffing at the brown tresses flowing across the pillow, she frowned. "Why does my hair smell like vanilla?"

Jareth snuggled closer, sniffing her hair as he wrapped his arms more comfortably around her again – showing no sign of leaving the bed anytime soon. "That's the trifle…" When Sarah giggled, he purred again, his lips gently teasing along the bottom of her ear as he rolled her further under him, the movement causing the sheet to slide down his body, exposing his back and half of his bum.

Seeing a brown-red smear across the back of Jareth's shoulder, Alesander started forward. "Sire…you've been bleeding!"

"No that is just chocolate sauce," Jareth replied, smirking at Sarah and trailing a finger along her neck. "See, she has some too. I'm surprised I missed that bit. I was sure I had gotten it all." Leaning forward he ran his tongue along the smear, earning a startled squeal and giggle from Sarah.

Bending over, Alesander pulled an empty bottle from under the sofa. "Ahh…I take it that you got into the Avalon Myst Spirits last night."

Jareth laughed while Alesander rolled his eyes, finding more empty bottles poking from under a cushion in front of the fire. "It always awakens your food fetish."

Ignoring him, Jareth pulled Sarah back against him and sighed contentedly. "I could send him to an oubliette and we could stay here."

Sarah sighed, patting the hand resting across her stomach. "True…but you have Kingly stuff to do. You know…running the kingdom, bogging goblins and such."

"But it's booooooring," Jareth protested.

"You sound like Toby when he has to go to school."

"I daresay I feel the same about my tasks as he does his."

Rolling her eyes, Sarah rolled toward him, teasing his ear with tender kisses as she purred, "Tell you what… you be a good boy and go do your Kingly things, and I'll give you a surprise tonight at the retreat."

Feeling his body already responding to her light touch, Jareth felt his heart warm at the thought that she would plan something special for him. "Oh… a surprise? For me? It's a deal!" Realising what she had said, he smiled and kissed her. "So I can go with you?"

"Yes...I'll clean up and go home to get things organized for us and let Dad and Karen know I am bringing a 'date'. Just get free as soon as you can, hmm?"

He nodded, kissing her forehead, then showering her cheeks with more tender kisses. "As my Queen commands."

"Oh…I didn't know you switched," Sarah chirped, then squealed as he swatted her bum through the sheet.

"Cheeky wench."

Rolling away from him, Sarah hopped out of the bed, his shirt hanging half off one shoulder and smeared with bits of jelly across her breasts, chocolate sauce along her back and fruit trifle along one shoulder. Sarah held her arms out and looked down at the mess, then at Jareth. "Shit…I really need a bath!" In front of her the secret door to the Queen's Chambers opened. Green eyes flashed irritably as she glared at Jareth. "I thought you couldn't open that door from this side!"

"I didn't do that, Precious. The Labyrinth and the people adore you. Is it any surprise that the castle would respond to your needs as well? Go bathe. Alesander will arrange for you to break your fast, as it appears I will be dining with the… Troll King," he groaned. "The man has the table manners of a rutting ox!"

The sound of Sarah's laughter echoing into the room as she ran through the secret passage made the king smile.

"Do you think she'll stay at the end of the year, Sire?" Alesander asked, leaning against the foot of the great bed.

Jareth pushed himself up on his elbows, his grin spreading as his eyes darkened. "I will do everything in my power short of breaking my oaths to her, to convince her that this kingdom, and more specifically this _bed_ is where she belongs."


	13. Ch. 13 Of Lakes and

**Wheel of the Year**

**Ch. 13**

**Special Author’s Note:** While I had most of this chapter plotted out, I did ask the crew on the Labyrinth FanFic FB private page for random silliness and they were more than happy to feed my demon...er...muse. Some of the ideas were already in the story, others served as a springboard. So here’s a big shout out to the wonderful ladies over there … 

Oh...and ‘Mr. Scales’ is on temporary loan from Jetredgirl’s Jareth in ‘The One Where the Goblin King Got a Cell Phone’ (which I think also started as a random idea on the fanfic discussion page *lol*).Yes, I had permission to use him (Mr. Scales that is...I’m not allowed to be alone with her Jareth anymore, the last time I borrowed him, I absconded with him for too long and that made her rather cross ;) ). 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the silliness and hints of lemony goodness in this chapter. 

Chapters for my WIPS may be a bit slower for a bit, I’m having lots of pain issues with my fibro and associated conditions which make typing painful and thinking hard (at the best of times). In general, the mind is willing, but the body won’t cooperate.

 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 

Standing back, Sarah surveyed the neat stacks of clothing on her bed and sighed. Given her line of work, she spent most days in jeans and t-shirts, occasionally donning a flowing skirt and shirt for the odd dinner out with her family. Yet here she was, debating not only whether she should pack something a bit more stylish than jean shorts and t-shirts, but also debating whether to pack practical ‘comfortable’ summer weight cotton knickers and bras, or her ‘special’ sets made of silk and lace -- sets she had purchased with the hope of wearing them for someone ‘special’. 

“Now that I’ve got someone special to wear them for, who definitely wants to see me in my knickers, I can’t decide if I should wear them. What the Hell is that all about?!” she muttered, letting her fingertips trail over the pretty blue eyelet lace that adorned one of her nice lingerie sets.

 _‘Hah! He wants to see you sans knickers,’_ whispered the little voice in her mind, making her cheeks burn faintly at the thought. Impulsively she grabbed two sets of ‘special’ lingerie and tucked them into the bottom corner of her weekend bag. With lingerie packed, she chewed her lower lip and looked at the clothes again, finally selecting a pair of jean shorts, another pair of khaki shorts, and a set of swim shorts. Shoving them in her bag, she saw her favourite sundress hanging on the back of the closet door. Before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed it off the hook and carefully folded it so as not to crease the fine white cotton, her fingers lightly tracing the tiny blue and pink flowers that dotted the material. Pausing a moment, she tugged open her dresser and picked up the baby blue cardigan that matched the dress, then dropped it into the bag and zipped it up. “Shorts, shirts, a dress… that I won’t need but… Shit… swimsuits. What sort of swimsuit does one wear when pretending to date the Goblin King?” she muttered to herself, as she turned and jerked the top drawer of her dresser open with far more force than was reasonably necessary. 

“Since I have never pretended to date a Goblin King, I’m afraid I can’t help you there, Precious.” 

Sarah squeaked, whirling around to find Jareth lounging on her bed, dangling her black string bikini from his fingertip. “That said, I find that I am quite in favor of seeing you in this scrap of swimwear….or out of it if you’d rather?” 

“Jareth!” Sarah snapped, snatching the swimsuit from his hand and shoving it into the front pocket of her bag with two others she randomly grabbed from her drawer. Zipping the pocket she darted into the bathroom, to hide her flaming face under the guise of packing toiletries. “Did you pack? Where’s your bag?” she asked, only half-listening for his answer while debating whether to include her whole make-up bag, or just the  bare minimum. _‘Fuck...I never worried about this sort of thing before...Jareth and this...this...whatever it is,’_ she thought irritably, before shoving her whole make-up bag into her toiletries case, followed by a haphazard collection of hair products, deodorant and a hair straightener. Glancing down, she ran a hand over her leg, glad that she had the presence of mind to shave before going to the castle for what she thought was to be the weekend. _‘But just in case,_ ’ she thought, nibbling on her lower lip as she added her razor and scented body oil to her bag.

 _‘Uh huh...and we all know **why** you shaved before going to the castle. You were hoping for a little naked cuddle time with a certain sexy Fae,’_ whispered the little voice again. 

“Sarah, I have magic. I don’t need to pack a bag,” Jareth replied from the bedroom. 

“Well you’ll look a bit suspicious if you turn up without one,” she called out. Slamming the bathroom drawer shut, Sarah paused and looked in the mirror. With a frown she picked up her brush and ran it briskly through her hair, before adding it to her bag. “This is ridiculous,” she grumbled to her reflection. “It’s Jareth. We’re friends...well… friends with benefits maybe....I don’t have to be nervous.” 

Leaning in the doorway, Jareth smiled as he watched Sarah scolding herself. Her way her cheeks flushed when she was thinking of him intrigued him, yet he found that he took no pleasure in her discomfort where he was concerned. “No, you don’t, Precious,” Jareth said, smiling warmly at the startled look from the flustered brunette. Taking her hand he gently kissed her knuckles. “There is no need to be nervous with me. You have my oath not to do anything you do not expressly want. And after last night’s _activities_ , I would have thought your nerves had been well and truly eradicated.” 

Sarah felt her cheeks flush clear the the tips of her ears, pulsing in time with her heartbeat at the intensity of Jareth’s gaze. “We’re not discussing what happened last night,” she snapped, pushing past him and tossing her toiletries bag on the bed next to her weekend bag. “And you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, Goblin King.” 

Ignoring her scolding, Jareth slipped back into the bedroom to stand behind her, his arms sliding easily around her waist, enfolding her against his chest. “Yes, Sarah… we are friends, at least I like to believe that we are. And while I am not sure what you mean by ‘friends-with-benefits’, I like to think that there are benefits to our friendship. And if it should… perhaps… evolve to become more than a mere friendship, then so be it,” he murmured, resting his cheek against her ear. “So,  there is no reason to be nervous. “You do enjoy my company, do you not?”

Feeling her heart flutter wildly at the base of her throat, Sarah nodded, her throat seeming to click loudly as she swallowed. 

Jareth’s smile broadened at her admission. He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, his tone soft and warm. “And I quite enjoy my time with you. So let’s just go with the intent of resolving your issue with your parents, and this unwanted suitor business -- the bonus being we can spend a weekend in each other’s company, with no work, no kingdom requirements pressing upon us and most importantly, no goblins causing chaos.” 

Sarah couldn’t help but smile back. Turning herself in his arms, she reached up, her fingers slowly tracing the line of his cheekbones. “You’re so good to me. Why? After everything I did?” 

Tilting his head, Jareth’s lips lightly brushed her forehead, the touch so brief it was almost imperceptible. “Because of what no one knew, Precious.” 

“What no one knew? That doesn’t make any sense,” Sarah sighed, not seeing the look of hurt that flickered in his eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest. Deep down, the feel of his heart beating against her cheek felt so comforting, so...right. Despite a month of coming to terms with all that had happened since the Lughnasadh, she still found it hard to believe -- even considering how she had spent the previous night. “Hey wait a minute… you said we could spend the weekend. It’s Saturday, the retreat only runs through Monday morning.” 

Chuckling Jareth kissed her forehead and purred softly, “I move the stars for no one, Sarah…. Except you.” 

As he spoke Sarah felt the air around them seem to shift, growing heavy. Outside the window, she watched in shock as the sun seemed to pause, then slowly arc backward before going down, bathing the bathroom in darkness. A moment later it was coming up again, on the wrong side of the window frame, before stopping. 

“What….did you do?” she gasped, glancing at the window, then the clock by her bed, which now read 2:30pm -- on Friday. 

“I should think that is obvious, Sarah. I moved the stars, well planets more precisely, but it gives the same result really,” he replied matter-of-factly. Seeing her confused look, Jareth laughed and picked up her bags. “I have given us another day, to spend with your family...and each other. Now, are you ready to go?” 

Speechless, she nodded. “Yes...I mean...now… I...ugh!” she sighed, dropping onto her bed. “What are we doing? This will never work.” 

“What won’t?” 

“This...us,” she replied,gesturing at Jareth then herself.  Idly twisting a small bit of hair around her fingertip, she avoided his gaze. “No one will believe we’re a couple, least of all my parents.” 

The sound of Jareth’s warm, rich laughter filled her bedroom.. Dropping the bags on the floor by the door with a thud, he swooped over and pulled Sarah from the bed, hugging her tightly and swinging her around. “Gods you are the most ridiculous and infuriating woman sometimes, Sarah!” he laughed, then kissed her soundly, swallowing her startled squeak. 

“Jareth...stop! Put me down!” she giggled, thumping his chest. “I’m being serious.” 

Still laughing, Jareth stopped and sat on the bed, pulling her into his lap instead of releasing her. As expected, Sarah half-heartedly attempted to free herself, until he shifted her more firmly, and lightly swatted her bum. “Stay still woman and listen to me.” Harrumphing, Sarah stopped fighting and leaned against his chest. “Now, let’s look at this logically. Do you remember the gatekeeper at the Fayre?” Sarah sighed and nodded, trying to focus on his argument as part of her squealed about the wonderful feel of his arms around her. “Just by the way we interacted, she assumed we were a couple. Anyone in my kingdom who has seen us would make the same assumption. To have that many people fooled into thinking we are a ‘couple’ we must already make a good ‘act’ of it. Don’t you think?”

 

“Yes...I suppose, but…” Sarah protested, then frowned, shaking her head. “There will be questions. I know there will and I don’t like the idea of lying to Daddy or Karen about us.” 

Jareth rolled his eyes and gave her a gentle shake. “For one who does as much business as you do with my people, I’m surprised how little you know of me, Precious. I am Fae. I cannot lie to a mortal.” 

Sarah’s face blanched, her eyes wide as she looked at him.“Shit...what do you expect me to do? I can’t tell Daddy and Karen the truth! ‘Hi, this is Jareth, the Goblin King and by some supernatural twist of fate I’m married to him for the next year.’ They’d have me locked up!” 

“I expect no such thing, Sarah.” Jareth tucked his arm back around Sarah and pulled her close once more. “I may be Fae, but I am also Goblyn by my crown and tie to the land. I may not lie, but I that does not mean I will tell the unadulterated truth either. You are just going to have to trust me, I will not ask you to lie about myself or our relationship.” 

Sarah nibbled her lower lip, her eyes dropping to studiously gaze at the top of her vanity, before stopping upon a book, covered in faded red linen, it’s golden embossed title worn weak with age. Her mind whirled over what they were proposing to do, and in the end she had two choices -- not go to the retreat and face more of her family’s attempts to ‘help’ her with her love life, or bend the truth a bit and take Jareth. _‘Well… he is the closest thing I’ve got to a boyfriend,’_ she mused before looking up at his warm smile. _‘And as far as fake boyfriends go, he’s pretty attentive…’_

 _‘Hell, as far as **real** boyfriends go he’s a winner!’_ grumbled her inner-self, while her libido chirped, _‘And he’s pretty easy on the eye too!’_  

“Have you made a decision, pet?” he inquired, his tone low and soothing, despite the amused quirk of his smile. 

“I trust you, Jareth. Let’s do this.”

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Expectations could be such tricky things. For example, Sarah had expected that Jareth would just ‘poof’ them up to the lake in time to meet her parents. As it turned out, Jareth had other plans -- plans which involved a two-hour drive in a sleek, silver Jaguar. When he had first explained that he wanted to drive because he actually liked driving, Sarah had groaned inwardly, wondering how on Earth they’d fill two hours of time. In the end, she needn’t have worried at all. Jareth was happy to regale her with stories of his life and adventures both Above and Underground. 

Watching the trees along the north lakes district whizzing by the passenger window, Sarah had ample time to consider just what she knew about Jareth, the formidable Goblin King, and more importantly how much she didn’t know. 

For instance, prior to their drive, she didn’t know that not only was he very familiar with Aboveground culture, but he had houses scattered about the world. “Even the Goblin King deserves a vacation now and then,” he’d explained with a grin, as he put her bags in the boot of his car. Over the miles, she’d learned many things -- he loved driving sports cars, but preferred Jaguars. He disliked Aboveground horses, but had a herd of pegasi in a country castle near the Underground High Court. She learned that while he was an adrenaline junkie as a younger man, these days he preferred life in his own kingdom. More surprising, she learned that he really did enjoy nights out with her at the pubs in the Goblin City, and would gladly choose them over any sort of court function. 

When she thought about it, it made sense. As Goblin King, he was connected to the land and to the people in ways she was only beginning to appreciate. 

All in all, the two hour trip may have flown by, but it had proven to be illuminating in many ways. She’d learned more about Jareth, and a bit about herself as well. In hindsight, she felt a burn of sheepishness for expecting him to just ‘poof’ them to the lake in the first place.  

 _‘I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me...isn’t that generous?’_ whispered a memory in a very familiar voice. 

The memory made her heart clench, as she cast a sideways glance at Jareth. Deep down, she felt ashamed, shaken by the sudden realization of just how much he had done for her. Even at the start, he had only done what she asked. He took Toby, just as she requested. He had offered her her dreams. He’d even offered her himself. And since Lughnasadh he’d cared for her when she fell ill, catered to her whims and given her free reign of his kingdom. He’d done so much, and probably more that she was unaware of -- yet here he was doing more. _‘Why… why would he do all of these things for me?’_

 _‘Because of what no one knew.’_  

 _‘What does that even mean?’_ she sighed. It seemed so familiar, like a word dancing on the tip of her tongue, yet she couldn’t remember what it meant. 

Feeling the car start to slow, Sarah glanced up, her heart thudding erratically in her chest at the sight of lakeside retreat. For better or worse, she was about to introduce her parents to Jareth -- and she wasn’t even sure who or what he was to her, only that being with him felt incredibly ‘right’. 

Sarah leaned forward, pointing toward the left. “Follow that road around the left side of the lake. Daddy said they were in cottage 7.” 

Jareth nodded silently and turned the car beneath a carved wooden arch that proclaimed the property to be ‘Heron Lakes Resort’. The resort was situated on one of the smaller fingers of Heron Lakes. Neatly situated around the side of the lake were lakeside cottages of various sizes, flanking a large, old-fashioned resort lodge that seemed to hold court at the back of the property. In a quick glance, Jareth counted 15 cottages, many with cars pulled up next to their porches, while families unloaded their belongings. Slowing down, he pulled further around the ring road, watching the numbered plaques by the road until he saw the cottage he was looking for.

Beside him Sarah gave a nervous laugh, her hand clenched upon her thigh. “I should have warned them that we were coming,” she muttered. “Of course, when I left for your kingdom, I didn’t know we _were_ coming, so… Guess I can stop beating myself up over it.” 

Reaching over, Jareth gently squeezed her hand, his gloveless fingers sending a shiver of magic through her. “It will be okay, Sarah. Trust me.”  

The turn signal of the Jaguar ticked quietly, as Jareth pulled up behind the blue mini-van in the small driveway next to cottage 7. A woman in pale pink capri pants and a white shirt was handing luggage to an older gentleman with silvery hair. Jareth cringed inwardly at the loud Hawaiian shirt the man was wearing with his cargo shorts, sunglasses wearing alligators chased 1950s pin-up girls across the swirled fabric of blue and green hibiscus flowers. A younger version of the man was attempting to duel using a long yellow foam tube, his blue eyes sparkling with the sort of mischief so common to young boys. Jareth recognized the child immediately. He was taller, naturally, and his sandy hair was longer, falling casually over his forehead, but the bright blue eyes were exactly the same as Jareth remembered. 

“My goodness, but Toby has grown. I had forgotten that it has been 11 years,” he mused, parking the car. Through the closed windows he could hear the boyish laughter, as his father teased him about a girl in his class. 

Sarah grinned, as she looked fondly at her baby brother. “Not an annoying baby anymore is he,” she laughed, watching Toby whack his mother with a pool noodle, until she chased him toward the cottage. “He’s 12 now.” Her smile fading, she frowned at Jareth, “Will he remember...um...y’know?” 

“Doubtful, Sarah. If he does we’ll just play it off as a dream.” Patting her thigh, Jareth gave her a gentle smile. “Let’s meet your family and get the hard part over with, Precious.” 

Taking a deep breath, Sarah unbuckled herself and got out of the car, waving as Karen turned around. She could hear Jareth’s car door open and close, but didn’t have a chance to say anything, before Karen rushed her, hugging her tightly. 

“Oh! You made it! I was telling your father the whole way here that I had a feeling you were going to come anyway.”  Karen held Sarah away from her a bit and looked her over, smiling broadly. “You look fabulous! Are you doing something different with your hair?” 

“Um...no…” was all Sarah was able to get out before, Karen whirled her around, linking her arm through Sarah’s. 

“You didn’t say you were bringing someone. Come on, introductions!” Karen demanded with a grin. 

“Well...ah….” Sarah stammered, looking helplessly at Jareth. 

Jareth winked at her and stepped forward, offering his hand to Karen. “Hello. I’m Jareth Brenin,” he replied, each word quietly accented. 

Grasping his hand, Karen smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly pink as he lifted to her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. “Brenin… are you Welsh?” 

“Good ear,” he chuckled, tilting his head in a brief nod, his odd eyes glittering warmly Sarah’s step-mother. 

To Sarah’s disbelief, Karen tittered, her blush deepening. “Oh...my...well… I studied linguistics at university and always loved the languages from the United Kingdom.” Dragging Sarah and Jareth toward the mini-van, Karen beamed at her husband. “I told you she was seeing someone. A mother always knows! Robert, come meet Sarah’s ‘friend’...Jareth.” 

“Hello Princess,” Robert laughed, freeing Sarah from her step-mother’s grasp and hugging her close. “I’m glad you changed your mind, Karen would have been insufferable if you hadn’t shown up. She’s been quite convinced you would be here for the past two days.” Releasing her, he turned toward Jareth, his arm still around his daughter. “Brenin, hmmm. No relation to Garret Brenin, the political consultant to Parliament, I suppose?” he asked, holding out his right hand. 

Smiling, Jareth nodded and shook Robert’s hand. “Actually, I am his youngest son….and the only of my siblings to indulge in the family ‘business’, as it were.” 

Sarah blinked at him, hoping she didn’t look as stupidly ignorant of him as she felt. It had never occurred to her that Jareth might actually have an Aboveground persona that was well-known. Unaware of her own internal angst, Sarah’s father nodded at Jareth and released his hand, the two of them launching into a discussion of United Kingdom politics that Sarah couldn’t have followed if she wanted to. The two men drifted back toward the open boot of the mini-van and began pulling out more luggage, leaving Sarah free for to fall back into Karen’s clutches. Grabbing her arm once more, Karen pulled her toward the porch steps leading up into the cottage. 

“He’s quite handsome. So tell me...how did you meet him?” she demanded, with all the insistence of a high school girl demanding gossip about her best friend’s latest crush. 

Listening to Karen chatter on, Sarah was reminded of the way Karen used to make the same demands when she was in high school. While their relationship was strained prior to her trip through the Labyrinth, when Sarah returned, she and Karen slowly grew closer, until Sarah would rather discuss her crushes and heartaches with Karen than friends her own age. Laughing nervously, Sarah wracked her brain trying to figure out how to describe the way she met Jareth without telling the truth, which would be completely unbelievable to anyone ‘normal’. 

“We met briefly when Sarah was just starting high school,” Jareth replied, coming up behind them with several bags in his hands. “I was called away due to my Father’s business, and we lost touch. By a happy accident, our paths crossed at a festival last month.” 

Sarah glanced over her shoulder at Jareth and gave him a grateful smile, as Karen blathered on, seemingly happy with that answer. 

“Toby has already laid claim to the attic bedroom, and your father wants the bedroom on the main floor. Will you and Jareth be okay in the bedroom off the porch? It should be quiet on that side of the cabin and it has it’s own bathroom.” 

Surprised, Sarah gawked at Karen. “You mean, share a room?” 

“Of course dear! Your father and I aren’t stupid. We went through college in the 70s. We have no illusions about what you two consenting adults do in private.” Karen laughed and shook her head, oblivious to the incredulous look from Sarah. “All we ask is that you act with some decorum around your father’s colleagues and keep any noise down around Toby. He is old enough to understand the concept of sex, but we don’t really want him thinking he’ll be allowed to have ‘sleep-overs’ with the opposite sex until he is over 18.” 

Hearing Jareth chuckling behind her, Sarah was sure her cheeks resembled a neon sign.“But in high school, Daddy said he’d skin any boy alive if he caught them in my room!” 

With a sly smirk, Karen leaned close to Sarah and chuckled, “That was high school and from the looks of him, Jareth is _no_ boy, Sarah.” Stepping away again, she waved Jareth toward a nearby door. “Now go get unpacked. The cook-out will be starting soon up by the lodge. We’ll meet you and Jareth up there,” she said, winking at Sarah and nodding toward the partially open bedroom door, before disappearing up the stairs to fetch Toby. 

Jareth nudged the bedroom door open, taking in the large room, surrounded on three walls by floor to ceiling windows, each one topped by carved wooden curtain rod hung with heavy drapes. Dropping Sarah’s bag next to a simple black leather bag of his own, Jareth sat on the foot of the bed and gave an experimental bounce. “Well, I’d say that went swimmingly. I’ve even been granted parental permission to….” 

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Goblin King!” hissed Sarah looking in horror at the glass walls of the room. “Honestly, if they were worried about us being low-key around Daddy’s colleagues, why did the put us in a room with glass walls? It would be like…like...a perverse Jim Henson shadow puppet theatre!” 

Tugging Sarah onto the bed with him, Jareth hugged her close, draping his leg over her thighs to hold her still when she tried to struggle. “As tantalizing as that mental image is, I promise that should you invite me to be ‘intimate’ with you in such a way, Sarah, I would make quite sure that no one knows of our activities save you and myself -- Despite what you may think of me, I am not in the habit of broadcasting my sexual activities.” Nuzzling her ear, he kissed her cheek when she finally stopped struggling and relaxed against him. “Except at some of the more… dionysian festivals in Avalon,” he added, his lips curling in a wicked grin when Sarah squealed. “I rather hope you’ll join me for the next one.” 

“Jareth!”

“Is that a yes?” 

“Jareth!” 

Nipping Sarah’s earlobe, his chuckle deepened. “I’m not hearing a ‘no’.” At the breathy moan from Sarah, he leaned over her, his pale eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ll take that moan as a ‘maybe’ at the very least. Perhaps a little more persuasion is necessary.” 

Jareth dipped his head toward hers in a gentle kiss that made her toes curl, as warm currents shot up her legs to pulse in her stomach. Gasping into his lips, Sarah gave herself over to his very talented tongue. _‘I’m not sure how much of this brand of persuasion I can resist,’_ she thought, before another pulse of pleasure shot through her, taking it it any other thought she may have had.

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Jareth adjusted the collar of his shirt, then slipped his feet into the unassuming shoes he preferred in the Aboveground. Through the window he watched as the sun began its slow descent behind the mountains surrounding the lake, the pink-orange glow shimmering over the trees and still waters of the lake. While he enjoyed many cities in the Above, as at home, he preferred to be out of the cities and closer to nature, so the retreat at the lake suited him just fine. Glancing at Sarah, he chuckled at the way she seemed to be debating what to wear. Silently, he slipped behind her and wrapped his arm around her stomach, relishing the surprised gasp she gave at the sudden embrace. “Whatever you wear will be fine, Precious. But if you’re concerned about appearances, wear the blue sweater with your jeans. It is sensible and I’d rather you not catch a chill once the sun goes down.” 

Picking up the navy cabled sweater, Sarah set it aside, then pulled a simple white t-shirt from her bag. “I’ll get changed then we can head down to the fire ring. I saw a couple of the partners heading that way with wood in a wheelbarrow, so they must be getting ready to light the fire.” 

“I should probably leave you to get ready and meet you up there, if I stay we’ll only end up necking again and that will only end up with us…” Jareth sighed, nibbling her ear before releasing her and picking up his own grey cashmere sweater. 

Sarah grinned and pulled her make-up bag from the suitcase. “It’s not _my_ fault that Snot and Bob showed up with the message from Alesander, just as you were….”

Frowning, Jareth interrupted her with a petulant growl, “Their timing is impeccably bad, as always. I swear Alesander did it on purpose.”

“Oh really? And just how did he know we’d be rolling around in bed snogging, hmmm?” 

“Darling, I’m the Goblin King. He would naturally have assumed you’d come to your senses and succumb to my charms,” Jareth purred, as he opened the bedroom door. 

“Charms? Is that what we’re calling it these days?” 

Clutching at his chest, Jareth groaned. “Oh how you wound me, Precious!” Jareth winked at her then nodded. “Finish getting ready, Sarah. I’ll go find somewhere quiet to check in on Alesander. Some of the castle guests were leaving today and I want to see that they got off all right.” 

Sarah’s eyes glittered wickedly as she grinned at him. “Please tell me Oliviana is one of the courtiers leaving.” 

Laughing, Jareth shook his head, “Sadly no. But I have no doubt that once Alesander makes it known that the King is spending his weekend with the Champion and her family, she will hopefully decide that to pursue me further is a lost cause.” 

“Oh, so ‘meeting the parents’ is a significant relationship thing in the Underground?” she asked, picking up her jeans and t-shirt and heading toward the bathroom to change. Seeing Jareth’s sly smirk, Sarah stopped, her stomach fluttering wildly. 

“In my world, to meet the parents of lover in a social setting such as this, when it is already known that the people involved are ‘coupled’, is generally a precursor to the formal announcement of betrothal.” 

Gulping, Sarah fumbled her clothing, as she tripped over a discarded weekend case. “Um..well… yeah… let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. You’re just here pretending to be my boyfriend.” 

Jareth leaned lightly against the doorway of the room, giving the flustered brunette a wicked smirk, his pale eyes glittering slyly. “So tell me Precious, what am I? Hmmm?” 

“Complicated!” Sarah muttered, before darting into the bathroom and shutting the door firmly, the sound of Jareth’s laughter following her as he left the room.

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Jareth leaned against the railing at the far corner of the front porch, a shimmering crystal balanced on his fingertips, hidden from view by the climbing night jasmine that bloomed around the railing. “Ensure the guests are seen off then supervise the goblins in the barracks. They seem to have been getting into more mischief of late. And for all that is sacred, do _not_ send any more goblins with messages. If you must reach me, do it the usual way,” he snapped, ignoring the amused smirk on Alesander’s face. 

“Why, did I interrupt? Did you have the Champion in a compromising position?” Alesander laughed, not-flinching from the steely glare of his King. 

“Just ensure there are no more messages this weekend. You can handle things until I return, and if you can’t, then I sha new seneschal.” Hearing footsteps coming up the porch stairs, Jareth abruptly flicked the crystal skyward where it burst, casting shimmering water droplets upon the air, until they floated gently to the group and burst.

“Cool, you have a satellite phone?” Toby asked, hopping up the last two steps leading to the porch and landing with a resounding thud.

Jareth smiled at the boy, chuckling at the way he jumped up to sit on the railing surrounding the porch. “Um… yes,” he replied, lifting his hand from the hidden side of his chair to reveal a satellite phone. “You must be Toby. Sarah has told me quite a bit about you,” Jareth said, regarding the boy with a warm nod. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m Toby and Mom says your name is Jareth… but I’m not supposed to say anything about your funny accent,” the boy said, then shrugged. “Is Sarah here?” 

“She’s changing into something more appropriate for the campfire.” 

“Oh,” the boy sighed, then flopped into the Adirondack chair next to Jareth. 

Without a word, Jareth watched as Toby shoved hair out of his face, his legs swinging back and forth under the chair, in the ‘perpetual-motion’ that many small boys seemed to have. “Shouldn’t you be down at the campfire with your parents? Sarah and I will join you all shortly.” 

“Nah, Mom sent me back up to the cottage with a message for Sarah, but she said I wasn’t to go into your room if you guys were in it.” Grinning at Jareth, Tobby added, “I guess that means even if one of you is still in it.” Toby fell silent, his legs still swinging as laughter echoed up from the campfire and beach by the lake. “So...you guys are sharing a room,” Toby said, his words appearing to be more statement of fact than a question. 

Nodding, Jareth looked at the serious expression on the boy’s face. “We are. Is that a problem?” 

Toby shrugged, giving Jareth a lopsided smirk. “No. I know about that sort of thing. Mom and Dad think I don’t know about boyfriend/girlfriend stuff, but I do.” 

Jareth bit back a smirk of his own at the boy’s air of confidence regarding relationships. “Oh, I see. I shall remember that should I need advice on the subject.” 

The two fell into a companionable silence, interrupted only by the occasional burst of laughter and yelling from the beach. Finally Toby looked at Jareth, his blue eyes narrowing sternly upon the older man, in a look far older than his years. “So...are you Sarah’s boyfriend then?” 

“I suppose that depends upon how you would define the interactions and characteristics of a ‘boyfriend’,” Jareth replied, smiling inwardly at the forthright nature of the child. “I’m male and I am Sarah’s friend.” 

Pursing his lips, Toby gave Jareth a searching look, then nodded, his expression far too serious for a twelve-year-old boy. “Well, Erin Murdock told Jenny, who told Brian, who told me that a guy is a girl’s boyfriend if he eats with her and holds her hand.” 

Jareth felt a burst of laughter threaten to slip past his lips and coughed, hiding his smile with his hand until he could control the impulse. Chastened by the angry look from Toby, Jareth cleared his throat and nodded sagely. “By those standards, then yes, I suppose I am Sarah’s boyfriend, as we have shared several meals now and I have gotten to hold her hand.” 

“Damn,” Toby muttered, his frown deepening as he slouched down further in his chair. 

“Why? Do you object to me?” Jareth asked, wondering at the sudden pall that fell over Toby’s mood. 

Looking up in surprise, Toby shook his head. “Oh no...you’re cool. You’ve got a satellite phone and make Sarah smile, so you’re already waaaay better than that stupid jerk that Dad and Mom keep trying to set Sarah up with.” 

Confused, Jareth’s eyes narrowed upon the boy, who sighed and turned his attention to the scuffed tennis shoes upon his feet. “So what is the problem then?” 

“Well, if _that_ makes you Sarah’s boyfriend, then I must be Erin’s boyfriend...and I don’t want to be her boyfriend. I like Jenna.” 

Jareth swallowed the amused chuckle that rumbled in his throat and gave a grave nod of his head. “Hmm...there is a bit more to it than that, Toby. Generally, the people involved share activities and interests, as well as the occasional meal.”

“So what, you mean like having the same English teacher?” Toby asked,his  frown returning. 

“Um, no...it is a bit more complicated than that.” 

The two fell silent once more, each lost to their own thoughts, before Toby looked at Jareth, his expression troubled. “Ah...you’re not going to tell Mom I cursed are you? She’s really picky about that kind of thing. I thought it would be okay, since it was just...you know…” 

“Two men discussing women troubles?” Jareth offered, unable to hold back the amused smile that curled his lips. 

“Yeah,” the boy nodded. 

“It will be our secret, Toby.” 

“What’s a secret?” Sarah asked, as she pushed open the screen door of the cottage. 

“If we told you it wouldn’t be a secret,” came Toby’s immediate reply, while Jareth simply smiled and nodded. 

“That is merely a matter of discussion between two men, Sarah,” he chuckled. Rising from his chair and taking her hand. “And since I have it on excellent authority that you are most definitely _not_ male, I am unable to divulge the details to you, Precious.” 

Toby’s face crinkled up as he groaned. “Precious?! Ewww! Does Sarah call you my gross mushy names too?” 

Sarah and Jareth regarded the boy with amused grins. Winking at Sarah, Jareth raised her hand to his lips and kissed her open palm, earning them another groan and a gagging sound from Toby. “It is quite common for boyfriends and girlfriends to address each other by affectionate nicknames, my boy.” 

Jareth’s words made Toby freeze, his lips turning downward once more. “Crap…” he muttered. 

“Why? Do you have a girl at school you have a cutsey nickname for?” Sarah asked, ruffling Toby’s hair, then following Jareth down the steps to the lakeside path. 

Hopping from his chair, Toby trailed along behind the couple, kicking pebbles on the path. “Not unless ‘Four-Eyes Erin’ counts.” 

“I’m quite sure that does _not_ count as an affectionate nickname, Toby,” Jareth replied, glancing at the boy over his shoulder and winking at him. “I think you’re in the clear.” 

The boy grinned happily as he caught up with them, nudging Sarah’s arm with his shoulder, until his sister grabbed him in a headlock and continued pulling him up the path. Laughing, Toby pulled free. “Hey _Precious_ , Mom wants you to go up to the lodge and see if they have any bug spray.” 

Sighing, Sarah squeezed Jareth’s hand. “I’d better go. Karen gets terrible welts from mosquitoes. Do you want to come with me?” 

“Actually, I was going to suggest that Toby might like to come with me to find the right sort of sticks to carve down for roasting hot dogs,” Jareth said, chuckling at the way the boy’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm..

“Wow! Really?! Dad always wants to use the metal toasting forks, but everyone _knows_ hot dogs taste better when roasted on a stick!” Pushing Sarah away from Jareth, Toby continued. “You’d better go do women’s work, Sarah -- leave the manly stuff like finding good roasting sticks to us men!” 

Biting her lip, Sarah looked from Toby’s serious face to Jareth’s amused smirk and shrugged, forcing back a laugh. “Well, don’t let me, a mere, helpless female stop you from such important ‘men’s business’.” She laughed at the way Jareth’s eyebrow shot skyward when she said ‘helpless’. 

“While I’d hardly call you ‘helpless’, Precious...it would seem that we must be off to take of this very important ‘men’s work’,” jareth chuckled, winking at her.

 Pleased with Sarah’s words, Toby’s chest puffed up with self-importance, as he and Jareth headed toward the nearby glade to find the ‘right sort’ of sticks. Sarah watched the two of them walk away. She couldn’t hear what Toby was saying as he chattered at Jareth, waving his arms around, but she could see the way that Jareth was listening to every word and nodding. The sight left a warmth inside her. In that moment, watching the older and younger blonde walk away, they could have been father and son. 

Turning away, Sarah headed toward the lodge, feeling lighter inside that she had in days. She bounded lightly up the steps leading to the lodge porch, nodding and waving at colleagues of her father as she made her way to the kitchen. The kitchen was crowded with people working to get everything ready for the cookout, their laughter and talking seeming loud as it bounced off the industrial size, stainless steel catering grade refrigerators, work tables and appliances. Sarah was somewhat glad to reach the storeroom where the bug spray was kept, if for no other reason that to find a brief reprieve from the cheerful chaos of the kitchen. Stretching up on her toes, she reached into the cabinet over the washer to get several bottles of bug spray, only to stop as an electric tingle raced up her spine. The sensation lodged into the base of her skull with a sharp ache that made her stomach lurch uncomfortably, as the taste of bile crept up her throat. 

“I’m glad you made it,” purred a voice from the outside door. “Your father said you were going out of town.” 

Gasping, Sarah dropped the bug spray, the bottles clattering loudly on top of the washer. “Alex! Um… yeah… it was a last minute decision.” Without looking at them, she reached for the bottles, her hands knocking them across the top of the washer as she fumbled to pick them up. Finally grabbing them she felt the electric zapping sensation intensify, making her flinch each time they lodged in the base of her head. Clutching the bottles to her chest, Sarah gave him a smile and backed toward the doorway way leading to the kitchen, the sound of laughter and chatting comforting when faced with the hungry look on Alex’s face. 

He gave her an appraising look, mentally cataloging what she would look like without her clothing. “I’ve booked a catamaran for tomorrow morning to practice for the race. Would you like to partner me?” 

“Oh… I…gee... that would be nice except….” Sarah muttered, the zapping increasing as he stepped toward her. Each electric sensation was enough to make her breath catch in her throat. _‘I’m alone with a male! Shit...the contract! That’s the pain,’_ she moaned to herself, then squeaked was she backed into someone. Instantly the zapping sensations faded, replaced with a liquid warmth that seemed to flow over her skin like water, soothing away the sting. 

“She is partnering me for the race, I’m afraid,” Jareth answered, sliding his arm around Sarah’s waist. “Although I’m sure she appreciates the offer.” 

Alex’s gaze narrowed on Jareth, a possessive growl in his voice. “Excuse me? Who are you?” 

“Oh? Didn’t Sarah tell you?” Jareth replied coolly, tucking Sarah firmly against his side, his arm still around her. “I’m Jareth Brenin. Sarah and I have been seeing each other off and on for… oh… years now,” he said, smiling down at Sarah, who blushed brilliantly, leaning against Jareth. Feeling the tension in her body fade, Jareth’s fingers lightly caressed her hip, as he enjoyed the easy closeness of her.

“She...what? I thought….” Alex muttered, glaring at Sarah then at Jareth. “But her father said….” 

Drawing strength from Jareth’s embrace, Sarah gave Alex an apologetic smile. “Yes, I’m sorry about that Alex. Daddy and Karen didn’t realize I was seeing someone. With Jareth’s line of work, we felt it was best to keep things quiet until we knew how we wanted things to go.” 

Jareth felt a warmth rush through him at her words -- her first public claiming of him. Of ‘them.’ _‘I know it is only for show, but still it is a thrill to hear her say such a thing,’_ he mused, momentarily distracted from Alex. 

Alex frowned, the possessiveness in his tone giving way to veiled anger. “But you went out with me, over the summer.” 

“I know. I did. But Jareth and I were.. well we weren’t seeing each other at that point. We were...taking a break,” Sarah tried to explain, running a hand through her hair, then leaning further into Jareth at the stormy look from Alex.

“You...you led me on,” Alex hissed, taking a step forward with his hands balled at his sides. Bristling, he moved to step forward again, only to freeze when Jareth’s pale eyes flickered black, then pale blue again.

Blinking, Sarah felt Jareth release her, as the noise in the kitchen seemed to dim until it fell silent. The world seemed to slow, until everything appeared to be happening in slow motion. Sarah could see people talking though the open doorway of the kitchen, but it was like watching a movie with the sound turned off. Beside her, she felt Jareth’s bearing change, heralding a shift in the air around them. When he stepped toward Alex, he seemed to grow taller somehow, his very presence having an almost palpable weight. For a brief instant he was once more the fearsome Goblin King she remembered meeting so long ago in her parent’s bedroom. Then she blinked again and time seemed to fall back into place, while the kitchen still moved in a silence all its own. 

“She did no such thing,” Jareth growled quietly, his words like icy lances that struck at Alex, making him flinch back a step. “She tried to let you know that she was not interested in pursuing a relationship with you. If you are too dull to take the hint, that is _your_ fault, not hers. And I’ll thank you to _never_ make such an unfounded accusation against her again.”

Alex’s mouth opened and closed uselessly several times, ping at Jareth. Registering a gentle pressure upon his arm, Jareth glanced down at Sarah; the silent plea in her eyes giving him pause.. “It’s okay, Jareth. It’s fine...let’s just...let’s just go back outside. Karen is waiting for the bug spray and I’m sure Toby is hoping you’d help him with his hot dog. 

Grasping Sarah’s hand gently, Jareth lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, before tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and leading her from the kitchen. Around him, Alex felt the weight of the air seem to change, as the talking in the kitchen seemed to grow exponentially louder. “What the Hell?!” he mumbled, blinking dumbly at the empty space where Jareth and Sarah had been a moment before.

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The sound of rushing water roared dully in Sarah’s ears as she brushed her teeth, her green eyes staring vacantly into the mirror, while a smile curled her lips. Although the evening had gotten off to a somewhat rocky start thanks to Alex from that point on the evening went far better than Sarah had imagined. Jareth continued to charm everyone he met, until the partners and their spouses were vying for his attention. More than one of the women managed to corner Sarah at various times through the evening to tell her how good of a ‘catch’ he was and press her for details about their relationship. Their adoration for him only grew in seeing the way he kept the children and even the stubborn, sullen teens entertained with his storytelling and games. _’I don’t know why I’m surprised. He manages a kingdom of unruly goblins just fine, Aboveground kids can’t be that different,’_ she mused, her quiet smile widening at the thought.

Lounging on the bed, Jareth propped his head up on his hand and peered through the bathroom door, watching Sarah. His eyes narrowed studiously upon her, wondering at the intense look in her eyes and the mysterious smile upon her lips. “As the mortals say...penny for them, Precious?”

Sarah blinked, gaping momentarily at her reflection in the mirror before seeming to come to herself once more, her green eyes falling on Jareth reflected in the smooth surface. Rinsing her mouth, she shook her head as she wiped the toothpaste from her lips and smiled at him in the mirror. “I was just laughing at how easily you had everyone engrossed in your ghost stories. I don’t know why it was so surprising that you’d be able to wrap all the kids around your little finger, but I definitely didn’t expect everyone else to adore you.” Flipping off the light, Sarah crossed the bedroom, a sudden rush of heat pooling in her belly at the sight of Jareth lounging across the bed in nothing but the loose, fine linen trousers he wore for sleeping. His bare chest seemed to glitter softly in the moonlight spilling into the room, making his badge of office seem to glow as it hung against the smooth expanse of pale flesh. Even though he was clothed, the inherent sensuality of him made her feel suddenly self-conscious to be standing there in her simple faded flannel shorts and tank top.

“Aww...I rather hoped you would be wearing that delightful little black silk number with the lace trim,” he purred, smiling at her in a way that made him look like a hungry wolf.

“Down boy. I know what we did last night but I can’t…” Sarah muttered. Swallowing heavily, she forced her eyes from his chest to the faded quilt that covered the  bed, shaking her head as she gathered her thoughts.. “I can’t do that sort of thing with my parents on the other side of the house and my little brother upstairs. My daggy pajamas may not be sexy, but that’s the point. No sex. Nada. Zilch!” she added, sliding under the covers next to him. “If I have to sleep in the lounge I will.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Sarah. We are here under the guise of being a couple. If you sleep in the lounge you will only find Alex being more persistent, while every woman would be offering you advice for how to manage relationship strife.” Jareth watched with great amusement as she fastidiously tucked the covers about herself, the settled back with her arms pinned tight to her sides -- as if pinning the blankets around her body would save her from his touch. “Furthermore, you could wear a hessian sack and still be sexy, Precious. And if it is noise or the presence of your family that are the primary barriers to letting yourself give in and enjoy all of the pleasures I am more than willing to show you, then please, let me assure you that I have soundproofed the room and made it so that no one can see through windows, while we can still see out. No one would know what transpires between us. Also as your step-mother already noted, we are two consenting adults, darling,” he noted, then chuckled at the conflicted frown on her face. Kissing her forehead, he reached over and pulled her closer, until her bum was tucked comfortably against his hips and her back molded to his chest.

Sighing, Sarah shut her eyes, relaxing into the warmth of Jareth’s embrace. It was getting harder and harder not to give in to him and the more she thought about it, the more she questioned her reasons for resisting in the first place. A gentle caress of his foot along her calf made her smile. “Jareth...not now...I’m actually tired. You didn’t let me get much sleep last night.”

“Not what?”

Sarah laughed and shook her head, snuggling back against him, as the gentle caress continued upward. “No. Jareth. Come on,” she said, twitching her leg to push him away.

“What are you on about, Precious?” he muttered with a yawn.

“Your foot…?” Sarah muttered, her attention drawn to the sensation as it crept higher, now above her knee. Focusing she felt the movement as a line that felt oddly… rough.

“FUCK!” she shrieked, launching herself out of bed and throwing the covers from her body. Scrambling for the nightstand, Sarah blinked frantically at the bed, ignoring the blanket-covered mound that was Jareth, only to screech and leap up on the armchair at the sight of a snake slithering up the middle of the bed. “Holy shit! There’s a snake in the bed!”

Pushing the covers from his head, Jareth looked in shock at the Labyrinth Chamtion as she cowered on the chair. Calmly he reached over and picked up the snake, letting it curl around his fingers. “Ahh...there you are, Mr. Scales,” he murmured to the reptile as it paused to flick its tongue out at Jareth.

Sarah’s eyes widened, watching Jareth murmur to the snake and gently stroke under it’s chin. “Mr. Scales?!”

Chuckling, Jareth smiled at her. “Yes, this is my pet. Alesander detests reptiles, so I thought I’d bring him with me.”

“No snakes in the bedroom! And definitely not in the bed, Jareth!” Sarah insisted as she slowly she crept down out of the chair and took a timid step closer to the bed, her eyes glued to the snake that now coiled around itself around Jareth’s fingers, it’s shimmering scales of red and blue twisting upon itself in a mesmerizing shift of color. “Hang on...is that….is that the snake you _threw_ at me?!”

“Yes,” Jareth replied matter-of-factly. “He so loves to be part of things when there is a runner.”

“But...but you... _threw_ ‘Mr. Scales’ at me?!” Sarah hissed incredulously, then flinched back as Mr. Scales stuck his long tongue out at her, the end flickering frantically.

Jareth beamed at her, then stroked the snakes head. “See, he likes you.”

“Wha...NO! Just...no! No snakes allowed in the bedroom. Out!”

“But…” Jareth protested, while Mr. Scales seemed to glare at her with his deep black eyes, then stuck his tongue out at her again.

“Now, Jareth!”

Still petting Mr. Scales, Jareth chuckled at her wild-eyed demands. “All snakes? Or just this one?”

“ALL...Snakes...Jareth…” Sarah growled, making shooing movements toward Mr. Scales. “Now get it out of here!”

“Sorry, but you heard her Mr. Scales,” Jareth murmured, twisting his hand and watching as the red and blue snake faded from view 

Breathing heavily, Sarah stood next to the bed, glaring at Jareth as she willed her heart to slow down again. “I can deal with spiders, but snakes scare the beejezus out of me, Jareth. If you ever want to have me back in your castle or bed, you’d better keep that...that... _thing_ away from me! 

“I promise, darling. Honest,” Jareth cooed softly, taking her hand in his and gently pulling her back to the bed 

Sarah nibbled her lip, then laid down hugging the far side well away from Jareth. She felt the bed dip and shift as he laid down, then rolled over toward her, his arm warm as he draped it over her stomach and pulled her back against him once more. The two of them laid there silently for some time. With every passing second, Sarah’s shock and upset at finding the reptile slithering up her body faded a bit. Lulled into silence by the soothing beat of Jareth’s heart against her back and the feel of his gentle breath on her bare shoulder, her eyelids drooping lower with the steady rhythm of his heart and her own.

“Do trouser snakes count?”

“Jareth!” Sarah groaned, rolling over and punching him in the chest.

“What?! What did I do?” he laughed, making a weak attempt at fending off the brunette now assailing him with her fists. “I’m just trying to make sure I know the rules for what is allowed in the bedroom and what isn’t!”

 

 


	14. Chills and Thrills

 

**Ch. 14**

**Chills & Thrills**

 

A rusty creak broke the sleepy silence in the glassed in porch of the lakeside cottage. The old iron bed in the porch room shimmied and dipped, groaning with the movement. Feeling a cool breeze against her back, Sarah grumbled sleepily, the sensation disturbing her enough to crack an eyelid. Pre-dawn shadows of blue and grey colored the trees that lined the lake outside the glass walls of the room, casting everything in a preternaturally eerie gloom. Hearing movement at the foot of the bed, Sarah pushed herself up on one elbow to see Jareth sit lightly on the on the bed with a tennis shoe in his hand. The bed protested his movement with a cranky squeak. “Jareth? Whatimeizit?” 

The feathery wisps of his hair bobbed slightly as he swung his head up and smiled at her, reaching back and patting her calf gently. “It’s early yet, Precious. Go back to sleep.”

Sarah rubbed her eyes and sat up further, taking in the simple shorts and t-shirt he was wearing. A wave of cognitive dissonance washed over her at the odd sight of the mighty Goblin King wearing something so mundane. “What are you doing?” she asked, cringing inwardly at the roughness of her voice, gone hoarse with sleep and thick with the smoke from the campfire.  

Standing up, Jareth gently nudged her back onto the bed, tucking the covers around her when she finally laid down again. “The sun hasn’t risen yet, Sarah. It is quite early for you but it is my usual rising time. I’m going to go for a run and to check on the kingdom. I’ll be back in time to get ready for breakfast.”

Through slitted-eyelids Sarah looked at him as if he had just sprouted horns and declared that he was the newly appointed kumquat-hagendash. “You what? You run?” she demanded, then groaned, shutting her eyes and throwing the faded daisy print sheet over her face. “Don’t tell me you’re one of ‘those’ sorts of people that think running is…’fun’.” 

Jareth merely laughed and kissed her forehead through the sheet. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Precious. I’m not asking you to join me, so go back to sleep.” 

“I always knew you were a weirdo. This just clenches it.” Sarah muttered, snuggling down into the pillows again, the faded floral sheet still over her face. 

“Usually I’d go for a flight, but being here, I feel more inclined to engage in a mortal pastime,” he added, as he tied his shoe.

Beneath the sheet, Sarah sighed, the thin material ballooning briefly, then settling again. Flicking the sheet down from her face, she pinned him with a stern glare. “If I find out you wear women’s knickers, we’re through!”

Still laughing, Jareth lightly swatted her bum through the covers. “I’ve told you many times, I don’t wear anything. Must I strip down and prove it to you?” As happy as he would have been to forgo his run in favor of a more intimate form of exercise, Sarah was already drifting on the edge of sleep. Twisting his hand, a glittering pink crystal appeared on his fingertips. Jareth blew gently upon it, watching as it floated upward, then softly swirled to land on the pillow next to Sarah’s head.  “Happy dreams, Sarah love,” he murmured, then snuck from the room as the crystal burst against her cheek.

***

Feeling the bed dip behind her, Sarah smiled sleepily, letting the scent of sandalwood and pine surround her and seep into her skin. The smell alone was enough to tell her exactly who was curling up in the bed. Jareth’s arm slid over her hip, his hand splaying across her bare stomach where her tank top had been pushed upward in her sleep. With each breath, his fingers caressed the soft flesh, a teasing caress that was at once tender and full of sensual promise. The heat of his bare chest burned against the exposed skin of her back, sending heat flooding through her to pool deep within. Against her back she felt the vibration as gentle purr rumbled through his chest, the sound seeming to spill outward, surrounding her until her senses were filled with him. Hisis scent. Hiis sound. And most enticing... his touch. 

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, making her shiver from the heat of his breath upon the sensitive skin under her ear.

“Hmm… so are you. I was wondering if you’d decide lounging in bed with me is more fun than going for a run. Surely I have more to offer?” she teased, sliding her bare foot along his calf, only to be rewarded with a gentle kiss along the side of her neck. Peeking over the edge of the comforter, she saw snowflakes lazily fluttering through the air outside her bedroom window and could smell vanilla and cinnamon hanging heavily in the air --  Karen’s Christmas french toast warming in the oven. 

Jareth’s warm chuckle tickled her neck, as the hand on her stomach slowly trailed upward, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. “I got downstairs and realized I was a fool to go for a run in the cold, when I have a perfectly warm woman waiting for me in bed. It would be far more fun to work up a sweat with you.”

Rolling over, Sarah pushed Jareth onto his back, quickly straddling his hips, her hair hanging in a dark velvet veil along the sides of her face. She delighted in the look of surprise on Jareth’s face, even as his eyes darkened hungrily, his pupils dilating until they overpowered the pale blue.. Her hooded gaze held his captive, while she pressed downward with her hips, rocking against the thick bulge beneath her with agonizing slowness. Teasing Jareth was always a dangerous move -- but what was life without a bit of danger now and then.

“Were you a good boy this year? Perhaps Santa brought you a present?” she purred, running her tongue over her lower lip in the way she knew made his hunger for her grow. 

As if on cue, the thickness beneath her stretched thighs throbbed, pressing the lace of her knickers against her sensitive flesh. The roughness of the lace only teased her further, spurring her on to rock harder against him. Silence stretched around them, broken only by strained intakes of breath and twin moans of desire.  

Dragging his nails up the side of her thigh to her hip, Jareth let his nails dig into the warm flesh, pulling her down harder upon him with a soft growl. His eyes flickered from her face to the taut bud pushing insistently under the thin silk tank top she wore. Seeking her gaze once more, his eyes glittered, his lips curling in a dark smile filled with the promise of sensual torment. Sarah gasped sharply, her back arching sharply to thrust her chest forward -- she had been so lost in the intensity of his eyes that she didn’t see his hand move. Slender fingers firmly pinched her nipple, sending a jolt of lust through her, her core immediately responding with warm drips that slid from her hidden depths. 

“Oh, I think I’ve been _very_ good this year, Precious. In fact, you even said so last night, when I was buried balls deep in your luscious body. What was it you kept crying out, hmmm? ‘Good Gods’, I believe?” he purred, tugging her down toward his chest by his tight hold on her nipple. Twisting his fingers slightly, his lips curled in a wicked smirk when she rewarded his torment with a breathy moan. “Of course, I’m no God...but I am definitely a man. And a bloody good one judging from the way you screamed for me as you came undone.” 

Sarah felt her stomach flutter, as her muscles clenched upon nothingness. The emptiness made her ache for him all the more, her body remembering keenly the feel of him. Jade eyes narrowing in challenge, she smiled, feeling more heated warmth dripping from inside her to coat the thin lace, leaving a wet swath along the thick length of him.  Grinding her hips downward once more, she groaned, “Pu...prove it, Goblin... _ boy _ .”

With a squeak, Sarah found herself on her back, Jareth looming over her, his feathery hair falling carelessly around his face, framing the inky blackness of his eyes -- eyes which embodied the feral sexual power that was uniquely Jareth. Lost in his eyes and the power of him, she barely felt the thin lace rip, the sound of tearing material drowned out by the deep rumbling growl emanating from Jareth’s chest. She only had time to inhale before his lips met hers, devouring her in a soul-searing kiss that made her blood burn through her veins, scorching her from the inside out until she was sure she would burst into flame. Breaking the kiss, Jareth’s fingers twisted in her hair, holding her head still, making her unable to look away -- not that she wanted to. His eyes sucked her in again, her body blossoming beneath him, dusky petals open and beckoning..

Time seemed slow, leaving her hanging on the precipice of completion. For months they had shared a bed any chance they got. Every time she visited the Goblin Kingdom, and a fair number of nights when Jareth joined her in the aging brass bed in her cottage -- a bed which reminded her of the night she gave in to Jareth, making the antique iron bed at the lakeside cottage squeak and groan until they were sure it would break from the force of their lovemaking. 

The heat of his body against hers pulled her back from her reverie. His closeness seemed to burn the tender flesh, sending a sudden flood of moisture to coat the throbbing petals. In the months since the lake, she had never seen him quite like this, teasing her with the power and pleasure he could give her, yet holding back, as if waiting for something.

“Please…” she gasped, arching her hips upward, begging for him to take his prize.

And that was enough.

The damn broke and Jareth drove forward hard, rocking her into bed with such force that the joints of her childhood bed creaked ominously. Crying out at the way he stretched her fully, Sarah shuddered, clutching at his biceps. Her nails scored the hard flesh, bracing herself against his onslaught through her grip on his arms. The pain did nothing to cool his desires, instead fueling them. He bore into her harder, and her body opened easily for him, the thick warmth of her desire easing his passage, as it always did. She could never deny the effect he had on her, her body would betray her at a mere look from her King. She knew it -- and more importantly, so did he.  

Sarah hooked her legs around his hips, tilting her own upward, offering him a deeper angle that she knew drove him wild and intensified the sensation of him inside her. Deeper and harder he thrust, each stroke pressing against her hidden center, sending bursts of electricity sizzling under her skin until every nerve was trembling.  

Then the feeling changed. A strange tickle at first, which quickly morphed as her stomach lurched and rolled inside her. A telltale rush of bile rose in her throat, sending her frantically scrabbling against his chest, grunting in her terror. “Gerffoffoffoffgeroffoffoffffff….”

She only had a brief glimpse of confusion as she shoved him away and rushed toward the bathroom, the watery feeling in her mouth heralding the unpleasant outcome she abhorred. Groaning, Sarah fell to her knees on the faded tiles of her childhood bathroom and hugged the toilet in a position she hadn’t adopted since her last drunken frat party in college. With a sudden heave of her stomach, any hope she had of avoiding the unpleasantness was gone. Sobbing she brought up what little was left of her Christmas Eve supper. As tears streamed down her face, she continued to be sick, only dimly aware of someone gently pulling her hair back from her face, and a cool hand against her fevered forehead.    


“It’s okay, love. Let it up, you’ll feel better soon,” Jareth murmured gently. 

Horrified, she hiccuped between bouts of vomiting. “I’m..s-soooooorry!.... I don’t know….why!” 

“Shh, Precious. These things happen.”

It seemed to take hours for the feeling to pass, but in reality she knew it was only a few minutes -- minutes which left her a sweating, wrung out heap on the floor. Feeling gross and nauseated, she tried to pull away when Jareth sat upon the floor, but she was too weak to fight him. Gently he pulled her into his lap, cradling her against him as he wiped her face with a cool cloth. The chill of the damp washcloth felt heavenly against her skin, stilling her desire to move away from his embrace. Slumping against him she sniffed, wondering at the sudden sickness, and the terrible timing. The more she thought about it, the more unnerved she became, especially as she began to count backward to September. An icy chill slithered down her spine, making her heart momentarily falter in its steady beating. Sarah gulped, pulling herself from Jareth’s lap and turning on the shower.  

“I...I need to clean up. Please…just… go get me some crackers and weak tea?” she muttered, leaning over to test the water rushing from the faucet, and avoiding his eyes, terrified he would be able to read her own fears and suspicions with just a look. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ll be fine. The feeling is about gone now,” she said, jerking back the shower curtain and stepping into the tub, before pulling the curtain closed. The steel rings of the shower curtain rattled loudly against the metal of the curtain rod, effectively ending the discussion. Through the semi-opaque vinyl scene of cheerful hot air balloons that covered the shower curtain, Sarah could see Jareth’s concern. He paused, looking at her blurry figure in the shower, then silently closed the door as he left the room. 

Sarah slowly counted to ten, then quietly shifted the curtain to get out of the shower, leaving the water running. Steam roiled through the air as she swiftly locked the bathroom door, her hands shaking with the sudden wave of panic that assaulted her.  

“Fuck...fuck...fuck...nononononono,” she muttered to herself, fumbling through the bottles of medicine and beauty products in ‘her’ drawer of the bathroom cabinet, feeling for the long slender box tucked in the back of the drawer. Her fingers curled around it, both relieved and terrified. Sarah took a deep breath and drew the box out of the drawer, her stomach giving another uncomfortable lurch -- this time not powered by nausea, but by fear. With the shower still running in the background, she ripped into the box and pulled out the little white stick. “Two minutes,” she groaned, reading the package, then sitting on the toilet. “Shitfuckdamnfuckfuck!” she muttered, laying the stick aside and looking at her watch. 

She’d known from the start that giving in to her hormones where Jareth was concerned was both incredibly stupid and impulsive, but damn he was good. The first night he’d left her a quivering mess, her body overwhelmed with the strength of her release. And he hadn’t been happen with pleasuring her once. Oh no, he’d made her scream herself hoarse, before she begged him to let her rest.  

Glancing at her watch again, Sarah chewed fretfully on her bottom lip. “Probably should’ve suggested condoms or something. Stupid...stupid Sarah,” she groaned, shutting her eyes and leaning her forehead against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. “I should have known better than to believe the whole ‘Fae have a hard time conceiving’ bullshit,” she scolded herself. “I should have at least _asked_ him about it.” Seeing the minute hand shift one more line on her watch, she groaned and took a deep breath, before removing the cap on the test.   

And her world came tumbling down.

Two pink lines.

***

“I’m pregnant!” Sarah moaned, lurching upright, only to blink. Instead of clutching the white plastic stick of imminent doom, she was clutching a sheet covered in faded daisies to her chest. It took another moment before her surroundings fully registered, relief flooding her upon seeing the glass walls of the porch bedroom at the cottage.. “The lake. I’m at the lake. It hasn’t happened yet!” Scrambling from the bed, she checked the clock on the nightstand. “Good… it’s only been 15 minutes. Jareth will be gone for awhile yet. Gotta do… something...but what?” she muttered to herself, as she grabbed her jeans and tugged them on, ignoring the way her flannel boxers bunched up under the denim. Running her hand through her hair, she paced the room, her eyes frantically darting from place to place until she saw a sweater strewn over the back of the armchair. Sarah snatched it up and jerked it over her head, the scent of Jareth boring into her with each breath. “Jareth’s sweater...fuck…” For a long moment she stood there, the scent of him a balm to her frazzled nerves, until she shut her eyes once more and saw the little stick with it’s two pink lines. 

That image spurred her to move once more. Sure, it as a dream, but with the way things were going between she and Jareth, it had become a very real possibility -- one she was sure she was not ready to contemplate. 

Shrugging off the fact that she was wearing Jareth’s sweater, Sarah shoved her bare feet into her sneakers, then threw open the bedroom door. She wasn’t thinking of where to go, only that she needed to keep moving, running from a fate that was the figment of dreams, but one which she could feel snapping at her heels as keenly as if it were a vicious dog about to attack. Sarah rushed out the cottage door and pounded down the steps of the porch, her worn tennis shoes making wet squelching sounds as she ran across the front lawn of the cottage. Turning toward the woods, she fled from her dream, her fingers wrapped tightly around the amethyst pendant she wore around her neck. She ran without noticing the trees around her until she burst through a brace of pine trees, into a small wooded clearing. 

The ground of the clearing was littered with dry pine needles, slender fronds of brown and burnt orange, twisted and twined within each other, like a nightmare game of Mikado -- the scent eerily similar to the pine scent that seemed clung to her when Jareth was nearby.  Sarah leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees as she panted for air, the world seeming to spin momentarily around her. When her breathing calmed, she picked up a thick broken branch and traced a circle in the pine needles of on the ground. Standing within it, Sarah took a deep breath, feeling the strange rush of magic seeping into her from the air, as she murmured softly to herself, molding the power until she could feel it tumbling restlessly through her. Then with a quick exhale of breath, she forced the power toward her feet. She didn’t have time to wonder about the unusual swiftness of the spell, as the ground under her feet seemed to turn to mist, dropping her into the void. Sarah clenched her eyes shut tight, quiet words tumbling from her lips as she worked the spell to take her to the one place she knew she could find help. 

***

“Bloody hell!” Jerra shrieked, jolted from sleep by a sudden weight that fell upon her from the air above her bed. Struggling under the weight, she squinted in the pre-dawn light of her room, only to find a familiar pair of green eyes peering back at her as Sarah squirmed to sit up.  

“Sorry,” Sarah muttered, earning a pained grunt from Jerra as her elbow dug into her friend’s ribs in her haste to sit up and move off of her.  

Pushing the denim covered legs of her best friend from her own, Jerra sat up and reached for her glasses on the nightstand. Able to see clearly again, she frowned looking at the disheveled Sarah, who smelled strongly of the Goblin King. “Um… Sarah? Shouldn’t you be at the castle?” 

Shaking her head to rid herself of the strange vertigo that void-walking always gave her, Sarah pulled herself upright, only to feel her stomach lurch once more. She groaned and gagged wordlessly as she rushed toward the cottage door. Leaning over the bushes of the garden, she was relieved and frustrated by the dry retching sensation. The feeling passed swiftly this time, allowing her to breathe in the deep, heady scent of medicinal herbs from Jerra’s garden. The herbal fragrance worked wonders to calm her stomach. A moment later, Jerra pressed a chilled dipper of spring water into her hand, her violet eyes creased with worry. “What’s wrong, Sarah? You look dreadful. The Goblin King...he hasn’t….hurt you has he?”

Sarah sipped the water, letting the iciness of it soothe her rattled psyche. “No...no. He’s been, well… he’s been Jareth. But that’s fine. That’s normal, I guess. I just... I had a nightmare and I need some help.” 

Nodding, Jerra gently steered her friend into the cottage, seating her on the well-worn sofa, surrounded by soft pillows. Jerra said nothing, as she moved around the room. She tucked a fluffy blanket around Sarah, the stoked the fire until it was roaring within the old stone hearth. With a pot of tea steeping on the table, Jerra finally sat next to Sarah, gently brushing tendrils of hair from her forehead. “Want to talk about it?” 

The crackling of the fire was the only sound for several long minutes before Sarah spoke, giving Jerra a wan smile. “Jareth has been wonderful to me. We were at the castle, but then I mentioned the whole Alex thing and he insisted upon playing ‘knight in shining armor’ and going to the lake with me as my pretend ‘boyfriend’,” she explained, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Everyone loves him and he’s been really good about dispatching Alex for me.” 

“Okay,” murmured Jerra, frowning slightly as she regarded Sarah. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Sounds fantastic actually..” 

“It isn’t. It’s been...well… good. Really good actually. I spent last night in his bed at the castle. Pretty much naked -- except for his shirt.”  

Jerra’s eyes widened at Sarah’s admission, then her lips curled in a conspiratorial grin. “Again. That doesn’t sound so bad. Do you know how many women in the Underground would do just about anything to find themselves in his bed?” Sarah groaned and hid her face her in hands. “So… did anything  _ else _ happen that you’d care to talk about? Preferably with great detail and drawn diagrams.”

“No, we haven’t done anything like that… yet,” she mumbled, her words muffled by her hands. Peeking up at Jerra, she sighed, “That’s why I’m here. I need to know about sex between mortals and Fae.”

Jerra laughed, getting up from the sofa and plucking two teacups from the shelf. Returning to the sofa, she settled on the other end and tucked her feet under her. “Seriously? You’re no blushing virgin, Sarah,” she said as she poured tea into one of the cups then put the cup in Sarah’s hands. “It isn’t like you need me to describe how bit A goes into slot B and is moved about vigorously -- or not vigorously if you prefer.”

Sarah stared momentarily at the pink liquid in her cup, not actually seeing it, before she blinked and frowned at her friend. “No...not like that. I know  _ how _ to have sex, I just...ugh…. “

Patting Sarah’s arm, Jerra smiled and pressed a small berry rock cake into her friend’s hand. “Relax, I’m teasing. Intimacy between mortals and Fae used to be quite common and amongst some High Fae it is still something of a past-time. That is why there are so many changelings above. So it isn’t like it is against Fae law for you and Jar…” Sarah’s head snapped up and she shook it frantically, drawing her hand across her throat. Stopping mid-word, Jerra cleared her throat before continuing. “Um… for you and the King to be intimate if you want to.” Jerra’s lips pursed thoughtfully as she sipped her own tea. “Of course, Fae who get involved sexually with mortals tend to find themselves to be far more fertile than when they are with other Fae.” 

“Do mortal methods of birth control work to prevent it?” 

Jerra considered all she had heard over the years, then grimaced, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Beside her, Sarah sighed, slumping lower on the sofa until her teacup was nearly balanced on her chest. “Fuck. That is what I was afraid of.” Sitting up again, Sarah frowned peering into the teacup as if she could see the answer within. After several moments, Sarah nibbled her lip and looked at Jerra. “I don’t suppose there is some sort of ‘supernatural birth control’ you can find for me?” 

Putting her teacup aside on the table, Jerra looked at Sarah, her gentle expression flooded with concern. “Why? Don’t you like the Goblin King?”

“Well...yeah...of course I do. He’s been nothing but kind to me, well aside from the whole thing at the fire festival, but that wasn’t his fault,” Sarah muttered, toying with a biscuit from the plate on the table. “It’s just....we aren’t in a ‘real’ relationship, this is just for this year, y’know? But when we’re alone together, things get kind of, hot’n’heavy. So I’d like to know I don’t get pregnant if we were to...um...you know.” 

“Fuck like bunnies?”

Sarah groaned and hid her face in her hands, her flaming pink ears the only visible sign of her embarrassment. Snickering, Jerra calmly reached over Sarah’s shoulder, allowing the red and blue snake creeping along the back of the sofa to slither across her hand and coil around her fingers.

Surprised by Jerra’s movement, Sarah glanced up, only to cringe back into the corner of the couch, gawping at Jerra and the snake. “How did that blasted snake end up here?!”

Jerra laughed, giving Sarah a questioning look. “You know him?” she asked, trailing a fingertip along the top of the snake’s head. 

“Yeah...I met _Mr. Scales_ last night,” Sarah growled, her eyes narrowing on the snake as he flicked his tongue at her, then slithered up the arm of Jerra’s shirt. “Jareth didn’t think to warn me he brought _that_ snake with him and it was crawling up my leg...in bed!”   

“Ahh, that explains why he showed up suddenly yesterday evening. One minute I was sorting dried herbs, the next Mr. Scales was making his way across my table. I watch him for the Goblin King when he is outside the walls of the kingdom,” Jerra replied, as she retrieved the snake from inside her shirt and deposited him gently into the basket of herbs sitting next to the end of the couch. “Anyway, I’ll see what I can do about finding you some form of preventative, but until then, if you don’t want to be carrying the next heir anytime soon, the best choice is just to avoid having sex with the King. There are plenty of other ways to … ‘Tame Mr. Scales’.”

“What does that silly snake have to do with anything?” Sarah grumbled, eying Mr. Scales warily as he wiggled his tongue at her, in a way that was far too reminiscent of the indecent tongue wriggling Jareth had done to her in his chambers. “I’ve told him no snakes allowed in the bedroom.” 

Jerra’s laughter bounced merrily off the walls of the lounge room, sounding like tiny bells chiming in synchrony. “Well, it isn’t like I’ve ever been in a position to find out for myself, but the women of the Court like to talk -- Rumor has it that the Goblin King has named his trouser snake. 

Blinking, Sarah looked aghast, her mouth opening and closing twice before she squeaked. “What...no… you can’t be serious…”

“Yup, I’m serious.” Jerra giggled, then smirked as Sarah flopped back into the corner of the couch, covering her face with her hands. “So tell me, have you met the  _ other _ Mr. Scales yet?”

“No…. “ 

“Pity. I always wanted to know if his assets were all ‘talk and no trousers’ as the girls say,” Jerra chirped, sipping her tea once more. 

“I can’t believe we are discussing the Goblin King’s… assets,” Sarah moaned into a throw pillow.

Shrugging, Jerra bit into a berry tart, licking crumbs from the corners of her mouth. “Don’t blame me. You are the one who fell into my bed then wanted to discuss having sex with the King. I’m the innocent party in all of this.” 

“Innocent?” snorted Sarah, rolling her eyes. “If you’re innocent, then I’m a virgin.” 

Jerra’s lips curled in a wicked smirk as she winked at Sarah, “Honey, if the rumours are true,  you’ll be glad you’re not a blushing virgin when you’re finally faced with what the Goblin King hides beneath those tights.”

Feeling her cheeks flush at the thought of the thickness she felt pressed against her back during the night and in her dreams, Sarah couldn’t help but agree with Jerra.  

Above the stone mantel of the fireplace, a brightly painted cuckoo clock began to chime the hour. Sarah frowned, glancing from the clock to her own watch. “Shit...it’s nearly 5:30. I’d better get back before Jareth does,” she sighed, hopping up and brushing biscuit crumbs from Jareth’s sweater. “When you have the ‘preventative’ send it to me by the usual channels.”

Jerra followed her friend toward the closet they had created as a permanent portal through the void back to the Above. “I will.” Watching her friend step within the circle painted upon the floor, Jerra grinned at the Champion as the floor beneath Sarah’s feet began to fade. “Oh...and if you should get to meet the other Mr. Scales, do try to enjoy it. I expect to hear all the dirty details when you are home!” 

Sarah’s embarrassed squeak lingered long past the moment her body disappeared into the void. Giggling at the thought of Sarah encountering the Goblin King’s other snake, Jerra hummed softly as she shut the closet door and went in to make her bed. Tugging at the sheets, she began to sing, “But the King’s staff is a maid’s delight….the King’s staff is a maid’s delight...but the King’s staff is a maid’s delight, for maidens and the King come most of the night.”

***

Jareth breathed deeply, savoring the scent of fall in the mountains around the lake. The air was thick with the smell of the changing seasons, rich loam from the decaying leaves, the bitter scent of rotting fruit, and the sharpness of pine which grew stronger as the cold began to take hold over the Above. The first time he had been Above when the seasons were preparing to shift, he had been surprised by just how strongly he felt the change within his own being -- having assumed that his link to the land began and ended with the Labyrinth. Since that first experience of it, he had often gone Above to enjoy the feel of the seasons, so very different Above than Underground, but still a powerful experience that flooded him with a sense of peace.

His run had been bracing and allowed him to drink in the intoxicating sensations of the seasons, but it was not enough for him. He needed more. Finding a small rock pool along the edge of the lake, he stripped off his shirt and shoes, and waded in. The icy water lapped around his body as he moved deeper into the pool. Where mortals might find the chill painful, Jareth found it invigorating. With the water circling his waist, he lazily trailed his fingertips over the surface of the lake, his eyes trained on the cascade of ripples that flowed outward from his touch. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and let his body sink, dropping below the surface of the chilly lake. Rising from the water, he brushed his streaming hair from his face and smiled upward at the sun which was beginning to rise above the top of the mountains surrounding the lake, shades of pink and orange painting the sky, his breath hanging like mist in the air. 

“First running, now swimming in a freezing mountain lake. Are you insane?!” demanded Sarah, peering down at him from the rocks that formed the boundary of the little pool. 

Chuckling, Jareth cocked his head and looked up at her with a wicked grin. Without answering, he flipped his wet hair back from his face and smirked at her. He had felt her approach through his link to the Labyrinth, but it wouldn’t do to let her know that he could sense her location. “Some have made such claims about me over the years. After all, one would think insanity is the only reasons a person would accept rule over the Goblin Kingdom. But alas, I am not insane -- the High King had me tested.” 

Sarah stared at him a moment, torn between admiring the smooth planes of his chest, that seemed to sparkle with water droplets, and  wanting to smack the smirk from his face. Shaking her head in disbelief, she settled on grumbling at him. “Jareth, it is only 57 degrees out here, the water has to be below that. You’ll catch your death of cold in there.” 

“Aww...does that mean my death would cause you distress?” he purred, smiling up at her but making no move to get out of the rock pool. 

Her frustrated growl echoed across the still water of the pool, bouncing off the rocks that bordered it.. “Fine… suit yourself,” she huffed. Turning to leave, she felt a wet hand grab her ankle. She froze and looked down at him once more. His eyes were dark, as his thumb tenderly stroked the inside of her ankle.  

“Sarah…” he murmured, his voice dropping, yet the weight of it carried clearly to her ears, sending a shiver racing down her spine. The intensity in his gaze made her stomach flip, then drop. “Answer the question and I shall get out.” Jareth didn’t move as he watched her. Fine pearl teeth caught her lower lip, worrying it, while her eyes darted to the rock, the water and the faint pink tinge creeping higher in the sky over the mountains -- anywhere but his face. “Would you miss me if I were to cease to exist, Precious?” 

After a long moment, Sarah nodded her head, her voice so quiet that only a Fae would have heard it -- and Jareth heard every symbol with impeccable precision. “Yes...I...I need you.” 

While the admission surprised the Goblin King, no one was more surprised than Sarah herself when the truth came tumbling from her traitorous mouth. Her eyes shot to his, wide with fear -- both over the boldness of her admission and his potential reaction. For a brief moment neither of them did anything, which only compounded the fear rushing through Sarah. Panicking she tugged her foot out of his grasp, stepping back so suddenly her heel slipped on the damp rocks. Jareth watched in shock as her arms flailed upward, then back. Her mouth opened to scream, but there was no time for the sound to emerge before her body hit the frigid water with a splash, her  shriek being consumed by the icy lake. 

“Sarah!” Jareth shouted, rushing toward the spot where she went in, his heart thundering when he couldn’t see her. Worried that she had become tangled by branches in the dark depths below,, he dove down through the murky water, pulling swiftly with his arms. Currents swirled around him as he neared her. Even through the darkness of the water, he could see her struggling with a branch, her sweater tangled upon it. Grabbing the hem of the sweater, he pulled it upward, a stream of irritated bubbles pouring from his pursed lips when she began to struggle against him. With another vicious yank he pulled the sweater over her head, freeing her. Grasping her hand, Jareth pushed toward the surface, the powerful kick propelling them above the surface, both gasping for air. 

“F-fu-fuuuuk!” she whimpered, shivering violently in the icy water.

With his arm around her, Jareth bodily pushed her toward the rocks and lifted her up on them, all the while growling, “Blast it all woman, must you fight me even when I’m attempting to save you.”

“Bu...bu...bu….” she stammered, huddling on the rocks and shivering as he began to pull himself upward. “But...it was...your...sweater….” 

“I don’t care about a damn sweater, Sarah! I care about you!” he snapped, climbing onto the rocks. Water poured down his body, as he worked to slip his sneakers onto his feet. 

Rolling over, Sarah’s teeth clattered together loudly while she pushed herself to her knees only to freeze, her eyes widening as she found herself eye to groin with Jareth. Water droplets trailed down his stomach, then pooled briefly at the waistband of a very small, American flag striped swimsuit, before cascading down the front of the suit. The tight material cupped him, but did nothing to hid the length and thickness. _ ‘Fuck…. If that is how big he is after being in ice water, that is more python than snake!’ _ she thought. 

A cool wind swirled around them, sending Sarah’s body into another burst of bone-rattling chills. Jareth’s frown deepened as her teeth chattered violently. “Hold these,” he ordered, thrusting his clothing into her arms. Before she even had a firm grasp on them, he swiftly scooped her into his arms and began to pick his ways across the path of rocks to the shore. 

“Wha...what are you...d-d-doing?” 

“You’re freezing, love. We have to get you inside. I’ll transport you from shore.” 

The sharp clack of a screen door clattering in it’s frame, echoed across the water, making Sarah flinch in Jareth’s arms. Whipping her head toward the sound, she groaned at seeing three of the her father’s partners coming down the porch stairs of the main lodge. They were all dressed for running, and began to stretch when they reached the base of the stairs. Still shivering, she fought Jareth’s grasp. “Downdowndown…” she muttered, pushing at him and squirming until he set her on her feet on the shore. 

“Sarah….” Jareth growled, the irritation in his tone carrying a terse warning. 

Shaking her head, Sarah pointed at his swimsuit, struggling to speak despite the continued chattering of her teeth. “F-fu-fu-fuck...Ja-Jareth….you...c-can’t...wear.. th-that...a-a-a-around… people!” 

“What’s wrong with it? It’s a common Aboveground style. Isn’t it?” he asked, then frowned as her teeth clacked together so hard he was afraid she’d break a tooth. 

“Yes, w-well, on y-y-you a suit like that is… j-j-ju-jjust…”

_‘Inviting… alluring… fucking obscene in all the best ways’_ suggested her libido.   

Ignoring the words tumbling through her mind, Sarah gritted her teeth and managed to ground out, “In-indecent! Y-y-yu-you’ll traumatize the ch-ch-ch-chil-children waving th-that  _ thing _ around…”

“What thing?”

Feeling her cheeks flush hotly, while the rest of her body was chilled to the bone, Sarah was shocked by the words that came tumbling out of her traitorous mouth, as she waved vaguely toward his waist. “Muh...Mr. Scales."

Arching an eyebrow, Jareth’s pale eyes flickered darkly. Seemingly impervious to cold water and crisp fall breeze that danced around the two of them, he simply smirked at her. “And just who have  _ you _ been talking to, Precious?” he chuckled, watching her cheeks burn darker, until he could nearly taste her embarrassment and curiosity. “Well, I assure you, darling… this ‘snake’ doesn’t have scales, but if I wriggle him juuuust right he can….”

Her body jerked sharply with another wave of chills, as she shook her head. “Nuh...nuh… “ she tried to speak, but the crunching sound of feet running along the crushed gravel path toward them distracted her. Moaning from the cold, her hands fumbled the clothing, dropping them on the damp ground. “Pu...pu...Put clothes on. Y-you’re practically...na-naked!”

“You aren’t much better, love,” he replied, snatching up his shorts. 

“Wha?” she demanded, as a cold wind blasted against her skin. The painful tightening of her nipples from the frigid air drew her eyes downward, showing her naked from the waist up. “Fuck!” she yelped, scrabbling to pick up Jareth’s discarded sweatshirt. “Oh...my...God… we can’t...let them… see!” she chattered, shivering and trying in vain to grasp the shirt. 

Rolling his eyes, Jareth picked up the sweatshirt and deftly tugged it over Sarah’s head. “You do seem to have something of an affinity for that word, Precious,” he mused, pulling his running shorts back on, the feeling of the thin material sticking to his wet legs making him cringe. 

“Can...we...not...talk about...that...now?” she muttered, shrugging deeper into the sweatshirt and shuddering with cold. “You gonna transport us?”

Jareth wrapped his arm around her, a crystal begining to form in his hand, when he stopped, glancing up at the partners now running toward them. A stiff smile curled his lips as he started walking her along the path, the crystal fading from view. “Act natural and in love, darling. We’ve been spotted.” 

The senior partner stopped near them, the senior partner eyeing them suspiciously, then giving Jareth a knowing smile. “Are you two okay? You’re soaking wet.” 

“Oh yes, we’re fine. I was going for a swim and Sarah just had a bit of an accident on the slippery rocks. I’m going to take her in and get her warmed up again,” Jareth said, nodding at them and quickly moving the two of them past the partners, who took off running again. 

Sarah said nothing more on the way back to the cottage, her teeth still clicking together intermittently. While Jareth’s sweatshirt provided some warmth, it was not enough to combat the cold and clammy denim that was suctioned to her legs. Each time the early morning breeze swirled around them, her body broke out in another wave of goosebumps, making her nipples pull so tight she was convinced they’d tear through the sweatshirt. Casting a sly glance at Jareth as he led her along with his arm still around her back, she marveled at the way he seemed completely impervious to the effects of being both wet and cold. _‘And he’s wearing less than I am. How is that even possible?!’_ she wondered, blushing and looking resolutely at the footpath when he caught her looking at him.  

Around the lake the cottages were still silent, the senior partner and the two most junior attorneys being the only other people who were out and about. When they reached her parent’s cottage, Sarah and Jareth crept up the stairs, deftly sidestepping the creaky board in the middle of the porch. The cottage was still quiet when they snuck back through the front door. Shivering, Sarah let the screen door go, then gasped, lurching to catch it before it swung against the doorjamb. Bracing for the inevitable ‘banging’ of the door, she sighed when Jareth waved his hand at the door, silencing it before it could slam.  

“Thanks,” she mouthed, as the two of them slipped unnoticed into their room. The moment they were in the bedroom, Jareth scooped her up into his arms and marched toward the bathroom. “Jareth! Put me down!” 

“Hush, Precious. You’re dripping everywhere in those wet jeans.” The bathroom door opened as he neared it, the shower already on and filling the small tiled room with billowing steam. 

“Magic has some perks.”

“So why carry me when you could have just cleaned up the water with magic?” she asked, knowing the answer. 

Jareth laughed and kissed her forehead, “I am King. It is my prerogative.” With Sarah still in his arms, Jareth stepped into the large shower, pounding water hitting them from the large showerhead above.

“Jareth...my clothes…!” Sarah protested, squirming in his arms.

Standing her on her feet directly under the heated spray, his arms still wrapped around her, holding her close. “What clothes?”  

Feeling Jareth’s lean body pressed tightly to hers, without a stitch of material to separate them, Sarah shivered again. She felt her cheeks burn at the sudden realization that now that he was warming up, his assets were even more impressive than they had been in the tiny swimsuit -- and they were currently pressing rather firmly against her hip and thigh. “Um...you can let go now,” she muttered, marveling at the warmth of his skin, while hers still felt like ice.

“I could, but you are still far too chilled for my liking,”he replied, turning them under the spray so it washed over her head, the hot water steaming as it poured down her body. “I’ll release once your skin warms up a bit more,” .

Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him, her glare tempered by the teasing purr in her voice. “And of course you are being completely chivalrous by hugging me, while we are both naked hmm? Completely without an ulterior motive?”

Leaning in, Jareth nuzzled her ear, the sensation sending goosebumps racing along her neck. “Oh...I have many motives, Precious. And I would gladly pin you against the wall and give you a _proper_ introduction to ‘Mr. Scales’  However, despite my more _carnal_ desires where you are concerned,  I assure you, I _will_ always keep my promises to you. I won’t take more than you want to give.” Jareth tenderly pushed wet tendrils back from her face, relishing the pink flush staining her cheeks. He could feel her shaky intake of breath, as he lightly trailed his fingertip along her jaw. His lips followed the path of his finger, tracing the path of goosebumps. “So tell me, darling, what do you want to give...or more importantly, what would you like me to take?”  

Sarah was recovering from the cold, her skin becoming warmer with each second -- but he knew that the hot water was only part of the reason. HIs fingers danced slowly over her skin, to tease around her nipple, a smile quirking his lips when she arched toward his touch. The rosy bud pulled taut under his touch, eliciting a soft moan from Sarah. Dipping his head, Jareth captured her lips, his fingers still ghosting over the sensitive peak, while his other hand slid up her back and into her hair. His fingers twisted into the sodden tresses, gently pulling her head back as he deepened the kiss, her body arching against his. The feel of her bare flesh flush against him sent a rush of possessive desire through him, the thick length between them throbbing against her stomach, earning him a hungry groan from Sarah. 

Taking advantage of her groan, Jareth pressed her back against the wall, his tongue teasing alongside hers, to taste the depths of her, as he slowly grazed his fingernails downward, along the curve of her ribs. With each inch his nails traveled, the brunette in his arms whimpered and wriggled against him. His finger lightly trailed over the neatly trimmed curls at the juncture of her shaking thighs. Jareth kissed and nibbled his way along her jaw to growl softly in her ear, as his fingers dipped ever so lightly between her thighs. “Hmm… parts of you are warming up quite nicely, Precious.” Feeling her push her hips toward his hand, he chuckled, pulling his fingers back just enough to barely touch the throbbing folds, already coated with the evidence of her need. 

“Tease,” she panted, opening her eyes to glare at him. 

Jareth smirked, then nipped her lower lip, sliding two fingers deeply into her, making her gasp and arch further against him, her head lolling back as her eyes shut once more. “Oh...I’ll tease you, darling.” Slowly he began to work his fingers in and out of her, biting and licking her nipple as she ground herself upon his hand. Finding the hidden nub between the slick folds, he stroked the pad of his thumb around it, making her buck on his fingers, a shuddering moan echoing in the small glass walled shower. A second later the bathroom door gave a lazy squeak as it was nudged open.

“Hey Jareth...you in there?” Toby called from the other side of the bathroom door. 

“Shh…” Jareth whispered in Sarah’s ear. “Stay silent, darling. It would not do to give yourself away to her little brother. “Imagine what your parents would say.” Amused by the look of utter panic on Sarah’s face, Jareth calmly spoke, his words carrying over the sound of the water. “Yes, I’m here, Toby. I needed a clean up after my run. What did you need?” he asked, propping her body against the wall with his thigh between hers. Shifting his his hand, he thrust three fingers deeper into her slick folds.  

The feeling of his fingers inside her, pressing at the sensitive center, sent an exquisite rush of pleasure through her. Biting back a moan, Sarah relaxed against the safety of his body, relishing the way he held her. When his fingers twitched inside her, she gasped, only to have the sound swallowed by Jareth as he kissed her, her body clenching around his probing fingers in response. Panting slightly, Jareth broke the kisses, a low groan of his own slipping out, when she began to ride his fingers, now pinned between his thigh and her warm channel. Her eyes bore into his, as her hips rocked faster upon his hand. 

Stroking the tender bud in time with the frenzied thrusts of her hips against his fingers, Jareth drank in every hitch in her breath and squeeze of her inner-muscles, as her juices coated his fingers thickly.  

Sarah trembled when Jareth leaned toward her, his lips brushing her ear. “You’re so close, darling. I can feel your release, just waiting there… to come crashing down on you. I should probably stop now. It wouldn’t do for Toby to hear his sister in such a state. You can be a bit of a screamer you know, especially when I have my tongue buried inside the that delicious quim of yours. I should imagine you’ll scream down the castle when I finally drive my full length inside you.” 

Jerking violently against him, Jareth purred as his instincts paid off, his words having the desired effect. Sarah clamped down on his fingers, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him close. With a quiet gasp, she bit down on his shoulder, her cries muffled by the water and his flesh. 

Lost in their stolen moment, neither of them paid much attention to what Toby was saying.  

While the young boy chattered, Jareth slowly lowered Sarah to her feet, his arm still wrapped around her to hold her up. Giving her a wicked grin, he brought his slick fingers to his lips, slowly running his tongue along the length. Sarah’s eyes were glued to sight, as he sucked his fingers into his mouth. Sucking deeply, he groaned at the feel of her hand surrounding him, slowly stroking the length of his shaft. “Fuck...love…” he murmured.

“Maybe later, Goblin King,” she whispered in his ear, her hand sliding up and down the length with more speed. His breath caught in his throat when her hand gave a twist and slid slickly over the head, before sliding back down once more.

Jareth leaned against the wall of the shower, fighting to maintain his silence as Toby continued to chatter at him from the other side of the bathroom door. Shutting his eyes, he tried to concentrate on the delightful feel of Sarah’s hand stroking him, only to groan at the feel of searing, moist heat that engulfed the sensitive head. His head snapped downward at the sensation, only to feel his entire body pulse with lust seeing Sarah -- His Sarah -- on her knees in the shower, peering up at him with mischievous green eyes. Once she had his attention, she swallowed further, sliding the full length of him into her throat -- something few lovers had ever attempted.

“So… what do you think?” Toby asked.

“Yes,” Jareth grunted, more in response to Sarah’s ministrations than in answer to Toby’s question -- but the lad didn’t know that.

“Thanks, Jareth! Dad said you wouldn’t want to, but I knew you would. I’ll go tell them!” Toby chirped.

Groaning aloud now, Jareth stroked Sarah’s hair back from her face, watching her suck him and shuddering from the rush of sensation. “I wonder….. Fuck….what I… Gods woman…. Just agreed to,” he panted, fighting the urge to twist his hand into her hair and take control.  The sight of her wrapping her hand around the length and stroking him with quick, twisting movements, while sucking firmly on the head, nearly undid him. 

With his ears ringing from his impending release, Jareth barely registered the sharp knock on the bathroom door. “Ahem… Karen and I know what you are up to in there,” said Robert, his words terse, but tinged with amusement.

The hand in Sarah’s hair tightened, while the thick rod in her mouth immediately wilted. Glancing up, she stifled a giggle at the frustration and embarrassment etched on Jareth’s face., as her father continued talking. “We were young once too and while I applaud the fact that you managed to keep Toby in the dark, I’ll be turning the hot water off in 3 minutes, so I suggest you save such antics for your bedroom...hmmm? Or if you insist upon ‘conserving water’, at least lock your bedroom door and the bathroom.”

Pulling Jareth’s softening cock from her mouth, Sarah fought back a laugh. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Ahem...Yes Sir…” replied Jareth, his words as strained as his expression.

The bathroom door clicked shut a moment later, as footsteps moved toward the other side of the house. A moment later Sarah burst into a gale of giggles, his flaccid member still in her hand. Glaring down at her, Jareth huffed, “You got off...I got shafted...it’s not fair.”

“I wonder what your basis for comparison is?” she chirped, before dissolving into giggles once more, until she was sitting in the corner of the shower, the sound of her laughter echoing merrily off the walls -- until the water turned to ice, sending both of them cursing and scrambling out of the shower recess.

“And I thought _you_ were cruel, Precious,” Jareth panted, briskly toweling himself down.  

Shivering slightly again, Sarah grabbed the towel Jareth offered her and began to dry off, “Well, between you and Daddy, I had good teachers.” As she walked toward the bathroom, she took advantage of Jareth drying his hair, to wrap her hand around the pendulous length once more, smirking at the way he twitched in her hand. “But I have a few tricks that are _all_ mine. If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll show them to you sometime.”  

***

**Author’s Note:** My apologies to the wonderful Terry Pratchett (and Nanny Og) for co-opting ‘The Wizard’s Staff’ song and giving it a bit of a Labyrinth twist. *lol* I don’t like doing a ‘song fic’, but I just get the giggles thinking about how annoyed Jareth would likely be about the Wizard’s Staff song. If you don’t know it, please go look it up *lol* It’s a lovely bit of ridiculousness (oh that I could write like Pratchett!).

Apologies must also be offered to ‘The Big Bang Theory’ as well. *lol*

 

 

 

 


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